


Make Me Yours

by Deadmockingbirds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Cages, Confident!Sam, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom!Cas, Edging, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Fantasy DD, Fantasy Fulfillment, Flogging, Humiliation, Leashes, M/M, Markings, Mild Painplay, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Nudity, Orgasm Denial, Public Nudity, Public Punishment, Public Sex, Punishment, Romance, Rough Sex, Ruined Orgasms, Sadist Cas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Sub!Sam, Submission, Tattoos, Urban Fantasy, Watersports, bamf!benny, brat!dean, corner time, enema, fantasy bdsm, magical angel sex toys, non-sexual domination, ownership markings, porn with little plot, spanking implements (various), teamdeansreadass, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadmockingbirds/pseuds/Deadmockingbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a strong-minded, man.  Which is why he struggles with his secret (not so secret) desire to submit to a man.  Problem is, no one is worthy of his true submission, in other words, anything other than him, topping from the bottom, until one fine day when his prince charming comes to claim him.  Prince Charming happens to be the dark and mysterious Angel Prince, Castiel Novak.  Sam is immediately smitten, which drives him insane.  Just because the man meets all his needs, needs he didn't even know he had, it doesn't mean submission to him is easy.  He wouldn't trade it for anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cr0wgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr0wgrrl/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written from a glorious prompt from crOwgrrl! It went something like this (Paraphrased by Mock):
> 
>  **Setting:** Some fucked-up modern day society (human or angel) where it is perfectly normal for the upper classes to get away with all kinds of deviant behavior in public. The lower classes don't indulge in it but don't look down on it either; in fact, there is a great deal of attention given to the upper classes, kind of the way Britain treats the royal family. Frankly, this is just an excuse for the story to have rampant socially approved exhibitionism because I think we all need a lot of Sam walking around on display in kinky gear for Cas.
> 
>   **Plot** : Castiel wants Sam in every single way he can have him, up to and especially marriage. Sam likes Cas but rejects his suit because Castiel's family is upper class and he knows the kind of public submission Cas would expect from him. Cas uses his dirty mouth and hot toppy demeanor to turn on Sam enough to convince him to give Cas a chance, starting with a date and working up to a weekend or even month under Cas's control. As Sam falls further and further under Cas's spell, things get awkward when the public starts paying attention to their courtship and pictures of Sam's kinky public submission to Cas start appearing in the media. [Possible complications: Sam's brothers are supportive but don't quite get it; Sam's friends feel that he is abandoning them for his new richer boyfriend; some of Sam's coworkers and acquaintances think that Sam being submissive to Cas means they can treat him the same way that Cas does (and maybe Cas lets a select few of them); Sam figuring out how to be Cas's 24/7 sub and still be himself.]
> 
> For all that Sam can be very forceful and strong-willed, it feels like what he was looking for was someone who could both make him submit with force of will and who was worth submitting to. 
> 
> Things to include: Hot toppy Cas, Sam being a badass but Cas being even more of a badass, Cas's dirty dirty talk ordering Sam to do things, Sam getting turned on by Cas's praise and by being able to do what Cas asks of him, Cas pushing Sam outside his comfort zone and Sam being turned on by it, Cas keeping Sam in chastity (cage and plug), Cas making Sam orgasm even while in chastity, Cas locking Sam's collar on and making him wear it long-term, Cas making Sam perform or be on display in public, Sam being resistant to submitting to Cas but irrepressibly turned on by it and ultimately finding freedom in it... if they get married, Cas having a collar and cuffs permanently tattooed on Sam...
> 
>  
> 
> ****
> 
>   
>  **WARNING**   
> 
> 
> This is a "Fantasy BDSM" story, which means I have not followed any sort of Real Life BDSM protocol. I wrote it with a bit of the style (only inspired by), in which the published work _Submissive_ by Anya Howard is written in. Thus, I'm really going to ride the edge in this fic. So no lectures on "BDSM etiquette, m'kay?" I know how it goes in RL, if you're someone who has to have their fiction play out like it would in RL, this is not the fic for you.
> 
>  This is a work of FICTION and should be read with that in mind. It is not meant to teach, or portray any kind of lifestyle. If the kinks in this work are things you might be interested in, DO NOT use this as an instruction manual. Please seek a professional, or someone with experience. 
> 
> I'm simply going to delete comments that make accusations of abuse or otherwise, without a response. I don't put up with that crap. Take your complaints elsewhere, this complaint department is closed forever. 
> 
> I really hope CrOwgrrl is not disappointed. I've been having a lot of fun writing this. She gave me an excuse to have my own private kink-a-thon. There are 5.5 chapters written, so it's almost finished ;) 
> 
> Special thank to Query, my KSS ;) for giving this a read over for me when I wasn't sure of it. Much appreciated. 
> 
> Okay. Enough. On with the fun!

"Sammy! C'mon, let's go. Braid your hair another time."

Sam is used to his brother. "Fuck you, Dean." Dean can't hear him though, which is good, since he doesn't feel like getting punched in the dick. Sam heads out to the large, open style kitchen from his bedroom, which is off to the back of the kitchen. He kindly gave Dean and Benny the upstairs bedroom after they got married.

"Mornin' Sam," Benny says, not looking up from the newspaper. Of course they still get the newspaper. Cell reception on the ranch sucks ass; phone calling and texting is all that works well. Looking up stuff on the Internet is a pain in the ass. Benny's a bit old school anyway and likes reading the paper with his coffee.

"Morning, Ben."

Dean walks from the bathroom near Sam's bedroom and whacks him hard on the ass, laughing, running past him. "Ow! Dean!"

Benny reaches out to grab Dean gives him a swat to his ass and pulls him into his lap, which is good for Dean, because Sam was about to knock him flat. "Knock it off, Cher. You really feel like having a spanking this early in the morning? It's uncomfortable riding with a sore ass."

Dean, happy he got the attention he was looking for, buries his face into Benny's neck. "You wouldn't spank me this early—not before your first coffee." Speaking of ready, Dean's not. He's only half dressed, in a pair of low-slung jeans, no shirt and backwards ball cap.

"Don't count on that," Benny says, but does go back to reading his paper. Dean knows not to get up, so he settles into Benny, calming himself.

"Why's he so excited this morning?" Sam asks, pouring himself fresh coffee.

"We have someone interested in a horse, coming by. Several horses actually. We could sure use the money."

They could. Sam knew because he did the books for this place and because of the job he kept in town, since the ranch wasn't pulling in the money it used to. Money's been tight a long time, but they always made it by, somehow, when Dad was in the picture. After he passed, Sam and Dean weren't quite as lucky. Never been able to find out just what they were doing wrong. Dean thought it was just a string of bad luck, leading them to debt they couldn't get out of.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be the one to talk to him," Benny says, a little sheepishly.

"That why he's hollerin' at me to hurry?"

Benny nods, putting down his paper and running a hand through Dean's hair like he's something precious.

"Why can't Dean do it? He can sell ice to penguins." And he's pretty. All the boys and girls like Dean. A flash of his heartbreak smile, a flutter of his eyelashes and anyone's under his spell.

"Ben won't let me. He thinks they're going to take me away from him, because I'm too handsome." Dean captures Benny's lips in a firm kiss and changes his position, so he's straddling him obscenely.

"Ugh. C'mon you guys. Do you have to? In the kitchen?"

Sam complains, but he can't help admire the way they smile at each other when Dean pulls away from Benny and holds his face for a moment, like he's memorizing him. Benny began as a farmhand for their Dad when Sam and Dean were in their teens. He worked for room and board and as much cash as Dad could spare. Soon as Dean saw Benny, he was gone. He was only eighteen and Benny was several years older, but that's what made it work. Dean's always needed a firm hand. Even their beginnings were Dean bratting off, while pissing the Hell out of Benny, provoking him 'till finally one day, he turned Dean over his knee and spanked his ass six colors of red. Dad had witnessed the whole thing _and_ approved.

"Sam's right, Button. You can get up now, so long as you behave yourself." He fixes Dean with a stern eye that he's used to, as Dean blushes at being called Button.

"I'll behave." Dean climbs off of him, reluctantly and moves to start some breakfast.

_Yeah, for a about five minutes._

"It's not because he's too handsome, even if that's true and I would appreciate you puttin' a shirt on before they come by," Benny says to Dean. "It's because the last time someone came by for horses, ended in blood on the front porch because of him."

"They weren't a good fit," Dean says. "And they wouldn't leave after I told them so."

Dean can sell ice to penguins, but his temper can get in the way of those sales if something sets him off.

"So will you, Sam?"

"Yeah, I can talk to whoever it is. Who is it by the way?"

"Only your biggest wank fantasy ever," Dean pipes in.

"Dean!" Only Dean can make Sam feel like he's still eight, whining to Dad about being teased. But his brain does start thinking. Biggest wank fantasy? Sam's eyes pop out of his head. "Fuck. Castiel Novak? From the Angel family?"

"That's the one. I remember when you used to have his poster on your wall."

Sam would tackle his brother, but he's still trying to figure out how the Hell Castiel Novak, the eldest of the Angel family and next in line to the throne is coming by their piddly little ranch for a few horses. Couldn't he get better horses somewhere else?

"You should have seen it Ben, big, shirtless, teenage, Castiel Novak right by his bed."

"Whatever Dean, I know you always liked his father, Michael, as if you didn't do the same." Sam gets a bun thrown at him and laughs. "You always did like them older. Daddy kink much?"

"Why you little—"

All Benny has to do, is slide his chair out and Dean goes back to his pan pretty quick. Sam can't help smirking. He also can't help remembering just why he used to 'wank' to Castiel Novak. It's true, Castiel is hot, hotter than hot, but it was always something else that drew Sam to him—the darker thing brewing under those deep blues. _And the knowledge of what he liked._

When Sam was fourteen, he'd picked up one of those "teen magazines" that were always doing spotlights on various members of the royal family. Castiel was in his early twenties at the time (so the magazine had told him) it was an interview on his sexual proclivities. Like other members of the upper class, Castiel liked to keep a twenty-four hour, seven day a week submissive, sometimes referred to as 'pet.' Public, twenty-four seven submission is not something practiced by everyone—it's mostly an upper-class thing.

Castiel always seemed to be above board about the whole thing. Occasionally, some member of the upper class is caught with a submissive from one of those human trafficking operations, but the Novak family likes to set an example (also explained in the article, okay six articles, Sam had read).

It was common to see articles of Castiel and his brothers with their various submissives and even interviews with them kneeling by their feet, considering how often Castiel and the brothers brought them out in public. Sam had found the whole thing fascinating. Utterly, show-stopping fascinating. Okay, maybe there were more than six articles he had read and if you start counting interviews he had watched, well then we'd have to get into the double digits. At least.

The thought of it, submitting like that, did something inside to him. It was this strange mixture of fucking horny, rebellion and calm. Horny, _fucking_ horny, because his dick wouldn't let him deny it, the thought of being "made" to do any of the kinky things he saw happening made his dick harder than never before. Fuck, he could get on board with that. Sam has got on board with that with various lovers.

But Sam denies he feels this way, even to himself. 

The part he always had trouble fathoming was the public stuff. In private he might do _some_ of it, for fun, but submitting for twenty-four hours, seven days a week? Yah. Right. Way too intense for Sam. Still, he could fantasize about the guy and about what it would be like to kneel for him. _Thank God Dean didn't know that part of it._ Dean wouldn't have any problems with it, but he would tease Sam mercilessly and that's something Sam doesn't need.

"What time does he arrive?" Sam is suddenly nervous. Even with the poster, Sam had always felt the need to present himself adequately—he can't meet Castiel Novak looking like he just rolled out of bed, which he just did.

"An hour." That's Benny.

"Now Sammy is gonna braid his hair, I bet."

"You're free to punch him, Sam," Benny says. "Least, I won't stop you if you'd like to."

Sam might.

**

No braids, Sam could never pull them off, he'd make the worst looking girl, but he does brush his hair and put on his nicer flannel and his only good pair of jeans. Benny ripped the t-shirt, hanging from Dean's pocket out and threw it at him, saying to at least get dressed before _royalty_ arrived. Benny even spruced himself up some. "I don't plan on coming out," he'd said, "but just in case."

Sam's sitting on the porch, his copy of _Charlotte's Web_ in hand. Yeah it's a kid's book, but so many life lessons can be learned from it, not to mention writing style. So much depth in its simplicity. Mom used to read it to him, when he was a boy. 

The day is dusty and hot; he basks in the tranquility before the storm he feels is approaching...approaches. Normally, he'd be helping Dean and Benny with whatever needs helping (despite it being one of his days off from the bookstore) but Benny thought it better Sam wait for the entourage to appear, while he took Dean far from sight—in other words, far from anywhere he could cause trouble.

And the entourage does appear. Two long black trucks worth, down the driveway. Sam sits up and puts his book down, but doesn't leave the porch. Several men in black suits proceed the first angel out of the limo. Then the first angel appears. He's got shoulder-length blonde hair, an oval face and a signature dimple when he smiles, which he's doing now. Gabriel Novak. Sam recognizes him immediately and can't believe he's right here at Winchester Ranch.

"C'mon Sugar plum. Follow Daddy," he says tugging on a leash. Even with all the knowledge Sam has on the royal family, Sam's still expecting a dog at the end of that leash. It's not. Out climbs a man, a gorgeous man. He's taller than Gabriel, by far. The man's hands are secured in a prayer position at his chest by a set of black wrist cuffs, his legs are hobbled—another set of cuffs secured around his ankles tethered by a short chain—and he's completely naked. Sam can see his long, thick cock, which has some kind of ring around the base. He looks hard and wanting. Around his neck is a firm, black posture collar, which the leash is attached to. Despite all of his hindrances, he manages to step out of the vehicle with grace and like he's dancing, to kneel at Gabriel's feet. Sam is awed.

Gabriel smiles at the man and pushes his hair back. "Good boy."

None of that's directed at Sam of course, but his cock lights up anyway and it's exciting in another, non-sexual way, Sam can't describe. He has to discreetly adjust his pants. Sam was about to move, head down the steps and greet Gabriel, really he was, but he's frozen as he watches Castiel Novak, glide out of the next vehicle (after yet more men) and stand like the Warrior of God.

Also dressed in a suit (Sam feels sorely underdressed—not that he has anything else special to wear, he's wearing it) Cas looks sleek like a Goshawk and as vicious too. He does a quick survey of the ranch's landscape. "Come along Gabriel. Do clean up your pet, he's leaking."

Gabriel's proud of that. "No can do, Cassy. He's being punished." _Punished?_ Sam can't help but wonder how and note the nice tingles blossoming through him.

"Oh for the love of… just come then."

Gabriel gives the leash a gentle tug and the man rises, again with the grace of a swan and hobbles slowly after Gabriel. He looks, content.

Castiel walks down the driveway and up the porch stairs like he owns the place, as Sam scrambles to stand up without an ounce of the grace the naked man had, or even a fleck of the grace he normally does, throwing his book down. Castiel looks him over with those keen eyes of his, his lips spread into a slow, cool smile. He's never seen a smile like that on anyone before, predatory and hot as fuck at the same time. Sam feels like he might come in his pants. "Are you the horse for sale?"

Castiel circles him like he _is_ the horse for sale and Sam remembers he has a voice and how to use it. (Though he isn't sure how to respond to that)

"Uh, the horses are around—" Sam's hips jump forward in surprise as Castiel grabs his ass. "Excuse me!"

"That depends, if you're a good boy."

Sam can't move, or breathe. Until he can again. He regains his composure, choosing his words carefully. This is the Prince after all. "Look, I haven't got all day. Do you want to see the horses, or not?"

Fuck. He just pulled a Dean. He hadn't meant to say that, but he's so worked up and to be honest, prince or not, he shouldn't be grabbing Sam like that dammit. Castiel stands back, folding an arm over his chest and using the opposite hand to rest his chin on. "I'm not fond of disobedience, but I do like feisty. Still, I suggest you watch your tone with me."

 _That_ pisses Sam off. "I don't care what you like. I'm not for sale, but if you'd still like to see the horses I can show you, if not, leave." Fuck. He is _so_ getting a spanking from Benny later. He's fucked up this deal, royally (pun not intended) which means no money and possibly even losing the ranch.

Before he can do or say anything else (stupid) he's slammed against the front of the house and lips. Castiel Novak's lips are on his. He's dreamed of this moment since he was fourteen and it's nothing like he thought it would be.

It's sixty billion times better.

Castiel must be made of electricity, because it's jolting through him and Sam has to scramble to hold onto something, _something_ to keep him grounded so he doesn't explode. It doesn't even cross his mind to push the man away. Instead, Sam finally gains purchase inside Castiel's long black coat, one hand on a shoulder, the other on a side of torso, hanging on for dear life.

Sam is bigger than Castiel, but that doesn't matter right now, he seems giant, looming over him as he is, a hand to either side of his head, trapping him in the best way possible. His lips are hot, he tastes like man and he's oozing…fuck. He's oozing fuck, if that's a thing, which Sam has now discovered it is.

Later, when Sam thinks about it, he'll know this was the moment he was lost to Castiel.

Sam hopes the kiss never ends. But then it does.

Castiel pulls away from Sam and rewards him with a new kind of smile. _Good boy._ He doesn't even have to say it. Sam knows that's what that smile means.

Sam is fucking appalled. Again.

Catching his breath, he pushes Castiel off him. "If you don't mind." Castiel backs up, looking just the slightest bit miffed, Sam fixes his clothes.

"You liked that, as much as I did. Why are you being this way?"

Sam has to fight not to look away. He can hide from everyone else, even himself, but not Castiel. Castiel is big right now. Huge. Sam feels small. He acts big. "You have no right to just waltz up to my porch, fondle me and, whatever that was. No right! I don't care what kind of prince you are."

"Crown Prince."

"Right. I don't care. Go buy your horses somewhere else." Sam shouldn't have said it, but he did and now they're really fucked. Dean would have had a shot at this.

"Wait!" he says. This time, much of the silky dominance gone (not all of it) sounding somewhat contrite.

Sam waits. He peeks an eye over to Gabriel who looks to be consoling his "pet" for some reason. "You're all right," he says as the man leans into his thigh, kneeling on the floor and hugging his calve. _Huh. Interesting._

"We need horses. How many do you have?" Castiel says.

"Ten. I can show you—"

"I will take them all."

"A-all of them? But you might not—" Sam's getting annoyed at being cut off.

"Did you not hear what I said? All of them. Don't argue with me." Castiel's brow frowns down and Sam has to work not to shudder. He does swallow.

"Would you like them delivered, or do you want to pick them up yourself?"

"Delivered. By you."

"I can't do it by myself. I need help."

"I can't do it by myself, sir. Say it."

Sam can hardly believe his luck—that Castiel is buying all the horses. This is going to save the Ranch for another few months, pay off some debts they owe, maybe even get them out of the hole for good. His brain kicks in and he gives Castiel the respect he's asking for, which isn't completely out of turn—he _is_ the Crown Prince. "I can't do it myself, sir."

"Mnmm. Fuck. What's your name beautiful boy?"

"Sam."

"Samuel. I like that. Very much."

"It's Sam," he stupidly says back.

"I do not appreciate your tone Samuel."

_That Samuel goes straight to Samuel's groin._

"That's one. I'll call you slut if I want to and you'll like it."

"One what?"

"One warning."

"What is this, three strikes and I'm out?"

"Depends what kind of mood I'm in. I'm feeling generous today. You could get five warnings before I turn you over that porch rail, bare your bottom and make you regret your ill behavior."

That intrigues Sam, it also makes his cheeks hotter. "Then what's the point in warnings?"

"So you know the edge you're riding. Don't worry my precious one—you'll come to know my moods and how far you can push me. When you'll _want_ to push me."

Sam can't help himself. He's angry. He wants to punch Castiel in his smug face, wants to yell, scream, throw things, wants to tell Castiel exactly where he can shove his useless 'warnings,' but at the same time, there's something exciting about it. The not knowing. The wondering if _this_ will be the warning that gets him bent over the railing, pants pulled down and spanked in front of Gabriel and his person. His heart's beating rapidly, some of the blood pounding at the head of his dick. _Pull yourself to-fucking-gether Winchester._

He gets the smile again, the good boy smile and Sam's insides feel buoyant. "What were you saying about needing help?" Castiel asks.

"If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to bring my brother and brother-in-law."

 _Good boy_ , his smile says. Sam preens. Feels relaxed again. "Permission granted. But only you are staying for dinner."

He's pissed again. "I'm not staying for dinner. You can't just boss people around, tell them what to do."

Cas shrugs amused. "I don't. I'm only telling you what to do."

"I beg to differ Cassy, the kid's right. You're a bossy fucker. Since it looks like you don't need me to help you look at horses, Nathan and I will be in the car."

Nathan looks relieved for a reason Sam can only imagine, but that doesn't rush him. He still exercises beauty and grace as he stands and follows after Gabriel using the tiny steps his hobbled feet will allow, like he takes great pride in what he's doing. Castiel isn't paying them any attention—all his focus is on Sam, it's a bit nerve-wrecking. "Stay for dinner."

"No."

"No, sir and that's two."

Sam's second 'warning' ruffles his feathers a bit. "Do you expect to be called sir after every sentence?"

"Yes."

Fine. He wants sir? Sam can give him sir. It's not any different than what his father expected and you know, the prince thing. "No I wouldn't like to come for dinner, _sir._ Thanks for asking anyway, _sir._ " Sam makes sir sound like fuck you and that's just how Castiel takes it.

"That's three, there won't be a four."

"I thought I didn't get to know when I'm out of warnings, sir?"

"Like I said, generous. I've met the love of my life today. I'm in a good mood."

Sam blushes.

Castiel steps toward him again, Sam wants to move, he's sure he does, but he wants Castiel to touch him more. Castiel slides a hand across Sam's face and grips his jaw and cheekbone, like he's holding an egg. But still solid. "And you will be at dinner. Else how am I supposed to woo you, beautiful boy?" He brushes his thumb over Sam's lips like he's dusting them off and plants a single kiss there.

He gets a new smile this time and Sam's not exactly sure what this one means except that it means everything. And that he might die if he doesn't see it again.


	2. Dinner and a Spanking

Dean is overjoyed when he hears about the sale Sam made. "Fuck Sammy. What did you do, sleep with him?"

Sam chokes on his own saliva, because though no he didn't, it's all he's been able _to_ think about. His dick is an asshole. After a round of coughing and Benny passing him a glass of water, Sam's able to explain to Dean. "On the front porch? Fuck you Dean. I didn't sleep with him, but he, well, he did kiss me." Sam wishes there was a way to record that kiss, so that his body could feel it over and over. Of course, he could just kiss Castiel again.

He never should have told Dean about the kiss. Dean gets his smirk on, waggling his eyebrows. "My brother the kinky bastard—you were raised right."

"You know what it means, to get involved with a Novak, don't you Sam?" Benny says.

"Yeah, I do, which is why that's all that's happening is a kiss. I made the sale, we have to deliver the horses tomorrow just before dinner and I'm not fucking staying for dinner." That's, that. He wasn't able to refuse Cas… Castiel a third time, but he hadn't said yes either. He couldn't be held to a dinner date he didn't make. Sam's sure.

"Whoa and he invited you to dinner too, Sammy?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not staying for dinner." Sam's mad. Seriously mad. Why does the only person he's been this crazy for, have to be Castiel Novak? This is fucking stupid.

"Why? You afraid you'll be eating out of his hand, from a pillow on the floor?"

Oh my god. That's what he probably has planned, isn't it? "Fuck off, Dean."

"C'mon Sam. I don't mean it, but Benny's right—getting involved with a Novak means, you know."

That Sam would be like Nathan. Yeah, he knows. Sam groans and buries his head in his hands on the table. "What am I going to do?"

Benny chuckles his husky chuckle. "Do you like him, brother?"

Like him? That's a fucking understatement. "Yeah, but the other stuff…"

"Sam, it's not like you're marrying the guy. If you like him, give it a shot. Worse comes to worse, you hate it, you move on. It's just dinner," Benny says. "And maybe a little hand feeding." Sometimes Benny can tease like Dean. But Sam's used to them and isn't paying attention to them and their teasing right now. He's thinking of possibilities.

Huh. Yeah, it's just dinner. Benny's making a lot of sense. Sam must have been too spellbound to think straight earlier. Yeah. Okay. Just one dinner. How bad could it be?

**

Sam, Dean and Benny deliver the horses to the Novak stables and have them unloaded in record time. They've been working together as a team a long time and are efficient. Castiel's been nowhere in sight for the whole unloading process and Sam thinks he's home free. Contrary to his decision the night before, Sam decided upon unloading that if Castiel didn't show (maybe _he_ changed his mind) he'd sneak away like a coward. When they are fifty percent done, he's looking around for Cas-Castiel with a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if he did change his mind? What if yesterday was all he got? He can barely handle that thought. Castiel promises something, more. Something far beyond the sex houses he's visited, trying to fulfill that place inside of him, that needs an almost indescribable something.

So when Castiel finally strides up to the stable doors, about the time Dean and Benny are heading into the stables with the last horse and Sam is closing up the trailer, Sam's whole body lifts with joy and he smiles. "C-Cas?"

Cas fixes him with a look of disapproval. "Is that what you call me?"

"No, sir."

Cas's look softens, but he still holds his firm gaze. "Okay, forgiven. You see how much I'm wrapped around your finger? Now, do I get a kiss?"

Sam wants that. By God, he wants that, but he shakes off the spell that seems to shroud him when Cas is near and remembers his new decision. "I told you, sir. We're not…I'm not. Stop it." Sam actually hadn't told him anything along the lines he was thinking—that he's not Cas's and he's not doing anything with him. He's only realizes this now.

Castiel frowns. Benny and Dean walk out of the stables holding hands and smiling at each other like loons, which Sam knows means they're itching to get home to fuck. Sam should be grossed out by that, he is a little bit, but he thinks it's nice too. Dean and Benny began over ten years ago; they act like they got together yesterday. "I'm ready to go," Sam says as they walk up to him and Cas.

"Uh, hello your majesty," Dean says. "Do we bow, Ben?" he whispers.

Castiel chuckles and extends his hand to shake it. "No bowing necessary. Pleased to meet you…?"

"Dean. Winchester."

 _Funny he should say no bowing necessary._ Sam bets Castiel would like to see him bowing before him. And fuck. He pictures it. _Cas telling him to get to his knees and prostrate before him, his naked ass up in the air, presented for his use…_

Castiel hasn’t even done anything to him, just exist and Sam's heart is beating, his breath quickening. Castiel notices. His two keen blue eyes on him, make it worse. Castiel enjoys his suffering, but he does reach out to take Sam's hand and hold it in both of his and Sam calms. "Nice to meet you Dean Winchester. Sam and I were just discussing dinner. And who are you?"

"Benny, sir."

Sam wakes up and yanks his hand away. "I was just telling," fuck he's already hesitant to call him…fuck it," _Cas_ here that I'm not staying for dinner. Maybe if he _asked_ me rather than ordered me to."

"C'mon now, you like it when I'm bossy, Baby. Though I'm not appreciating the attitude Samuel and that's not what you call me, you've already demonstrated you know what to call me. That's two."

Sam can barely take a breath to speak, but somehow he manages it, with flaming cheeks, at being scolded in such a way in front of his brothers. "Two? But, where was one?" He hates how whiny his voice is and that he's asking such questions. When did he start worrying over Cas's "warnings"?

That makes things worse. He can see the gleam in Dean's eyes. "You know, Sammy, Ben and I were gonna go for a romantic dinner anyway. Let the poor guy feed you."

Sam's not stupid. He knows what Dean's implying, _feed you_ and glares at his brother then looks to Benny for help. "I agree with Dean with this one, Sam. Give the guy a chance. I think this will be good for you."

Assholes. Both of them.

"Samuel. Please, join me for dinner?" Cas says. It still sounds like an order, but it's as much of a question as he's going to get.

Sam sighs. "I'll stay, sir."

There it is again, the smile. _Good boy._ Sam's body lights up 'till it reaches his lips. When it gets there, he turns the dimmer switch down. He has to bite his lip.

Castiel takes this as permission to tug on Sam's wrist, his angel strength making it easy for him to pull Sam to his side, he laces his fingers with Sam's. "Forgive me for not extending the invite this time gentlemen. I would like to get to know you both, but I've not yet had the opportunity to properly get to know Samuel."

The way Cas says his name sends fire right down to his toes.

Dean puts both hands up in surrender. "Don't let us stop you 'properly getting to know Samuel'." The way his brother says it makes Sam want to punch him. And shouldn’t he be protecting him? Not handing him over to an egotistical, sex maniac? Never mind if he can more than take care of himself, it's the principle of it dammit. "Have fun little brother."

Yep. Later, if he survives this, he's going to kill Dean.

**

Sam walks up to the palace with Castiel and he's overwhelmed with sensations. He's mostly nervous and awkward; he doesn't know how to act around Castiel, which is weird for him, since Sam is a confident, independent sort of person. The sort of person to even stick his neck out for others, like the younger boy who works once a week at the bookstore Sam does. Sam's boss is a first class prick. Much as working in a bookstore is something Sam enjoys, he only stays for the money and so he can protect the younger boy, who needs the money just as bad. Otherwise, both of them would leave.

But not knowing what to do, has Sam feeling off kilter, like he's on that damn tilt-a-whirl Dean convinced him to go on when they were kids. Obsessively so, he looks at Castiel, okay fine, he's staring, studying him with awe and appreciation. Then, he forces his eyes away, angry that he's so caught up in Castiel already. What's wrong with him? Doesn't he have any self-respect? _C'mon Sam Winchester._ He's having a hard time remembering why he should though, Cas is so dreamy.

This has never happened to him before. Of all the times he snuck off to be dominated by other hot, sexy Doms, never once did he feel this smitten. Hell, he's not sure they really dominated him. They had Sam, but they never _had_ Sam. He was the pretty wildcat in the cage, who let others come in and pet him, but when he was done, he was done and he left without looking back.

With Cas it's different and Sam suspects what's happening; Sam's falling in love. Love's like that. There's no one, two, three… these conditions are met, _now_ I'll fall in love with you. You just fall like you took a wrong turn off a cliff. Right person? Wrong person? Love doesn't care. You just fall. Feeling like you're always waiting for an impact that never comes—though Cas's kisses come pretty close. It's a helpless, wonderful, _awful_ feeling. No one told him that part. How awful it feels. An amazing sort of awful.

He's trailing behind Castiel (who walks faster than he can keep up with, couldn't he slow down a little for him?) who looks over his shoulder smiling wide. Fuck, he's beautiful. Castiel may call Sam beautiful boy, but Castiel is the beautiful one. Not that Sam doesn't know how good-looking he is (he's always been sought after) but not like Castiel.

When they reach the top of the hill and the path to the palace doors, Castiel stops them, Sam has to catch his breath (and Sam's fit!). Cas looks at Sam mischievously, then wham! Sam collides with Cas and he's being kissed. More overwhelming sensations; Sam has to grab onto something before he falls, the only thing in proximity being Castiel. Sam loves that the most; how Castiel can be both the one to make his world dangerous and save him from that danger.

When Castiel ends the kiss, Sam can't help it. _Gone, gone. Gone._ He's wistful as he smiles at Castiel, understanding something special is passing between them. Castiel smiles back, looking just as helpless, but unlike Sam, he's far more in control of his feelings.

"I needed my kiss from you—I wasn't going to wait another moment, beautiful boy. I made a deal with myself that I could kiss you soon as I got to this place." Oh. Now Sam sees why the rush. It's kinda sweet in a weird way. "If you only knew what you do to me."

 _What Sam does to him?_ This is exciting. Sam makes Cas feel something big too. Nothing could make Sam happier.

As they walk into the palace, they're approached by two men, barely dressed, in nothing but criss-crossing leather straps and collars. "Sir, your father requests your presence in the Throne Room."

Castiel's lips twist. "Disappointing. Very well. I'm sorry my love, I could be sometime with my father," he says brushing hair out of Sam's eyes. "Pierre, have Nathan help Samuel change for dinner."

_Change for dinner?_

"Yes, sir," Pierre says.

"I'll miss you 'till we're together again, beautiful boy."

Sam will too. Something clenches in his gut. He feels like a part of himself is leaving too.

_Already? Can they be so connected already?_

Whether they can or not, they are. Sam nods. "I'll look forward to it, sir."

**

Sam is whisked away to a large room, which Sam is thinking of as the "closet of kinky stuff." It's rows upon rows, of leather straps and other such "kink" paraphernalia. Some of it's he's seen before and some of it seems to glimmer, like maybe there's some of that angel power he's heard of, sewn into some of the pieces.

Laid out for Sam are several items he recognizes. He's not stupid, he knows he's meant to strip to put the items on. Is he really going to put this on? No. _No._ He should just fucking walk out the door now and never look back. In the least, he should complain to Cas, lay down his own 'rules', talk Cas out of this nonsense. Couldn't they have a nice, 'normal' dinner? But something is stopping Sam and worse, something is compelling Sam to just _try_ it—to give into that side of himself he hides.

Nathan, who has been sent with him to 'help' is staring at him curiously. Sam thinks he might be laughing at him, or trying not to laugh at him, or waiting for the right time to laugh at him. "What's so funny?"

"Daddy said if you spoke with me, I could talk to you." It's strange for Sam to hear the grown man, the very large man, refer to someone as 'Daddy' even though Sam is well aware of Daddy kink and even with the 'strange' feeling accompanied in saying the word, Sam finds himself more intrigued than judgmental. It's simply new and not _actually_ strange. "I find your indecision funny, Sam. You're cute."

"I'm not fucking cute, dude and Sam? Shouldn't you be calling me, sir?"

This time, Nathan does laugh. He's got a nice laugh, even if currently, he's laughing at Sam. "You are not, Sir. I think you could be a Sir sometimes, but that would definitely be at the direction of a…more Sir-like-Sir and much later when you understand."

If Nathan wants to talk in riddles, he can, Sam doesn't have time for them. "Fine. Why am I so funny?"

"You want to please your Sir. I can tell—it takes one to know one—but you are conflicted."

God damn rights Sam is conflicted. If he puts on the get up Cas wants him in, it'll be embarrassing. Looking like that in front of people, showing everyone what he really likes—he knows his cock would tell everyone. Isn't Nathan embarrassed? Not to mention, he'd be doing this of his own volition and therefore okaying, _consenting_ to being dressed this way; paraded around. Yet, fuck. He wants it. Wants it so bad.

"I've never had that conflict, so I can't say I know how you feel, not exactly. I've never wanted anything more than to please, Sir. The rest just falls away. That doesn't mean it's always easy, but even the hard bits are worth it. I learn so much from, Sir."

"You still call him Sir, even in private?"

He looks confused. "Why wouldn't I? He's Sir. I respect him. I'm proud to call him Sir, though I prefer, Daddy."

Sam shakes his head, he doesn't understand. "If I were to…try, how would I…?"

…put this crap on, he doesn't say out loud, but Nathan knows, he smiles. "That's why I'm here. I'll help you."

**

Sam feels completely ridiculous, it doesn't help that everyone is staring at him. Not only is he naked, he's wearing a set of leather straps that crisscross his chest and around his back with a strap that goes across his pecs and another that runs across his shoulder blades, like some of the staff. Castiel wanted his arms behind his back (it's a good thing Sam is flexible) so Nathan fixed cream-colored cuffs around his wrists and attached them with one clip, so they're bound close together.

Sam thought he handled all that pretty well. When Nathan asked him to remove his shirt (before attaching the cuffs together), he did so without complaint, but from there, things got a little uncomfortable. When he could no longer use his hands, Nathan had to remove his pants and boxers, which he did without much pomp and circumstance, to reveal his impressive cock. That earned him a leer from Nathan. Of course Sam was both irritated and turned on by having Nathan undress him and leer at his cock. Nathan had no compunction telling him, "I hope I get to suck this for you someday."

Sam told him to just get on with the getting him dressed and to stop looking at his cock. Which couldn't happen, considering Nathan had to put said cock into the cock cage Castiel requested he wear to dinner.

Physically, it wasn't hard getting his cock into the plastic cock cage, with a little help from some fucking ice—that part wasn't fun. It was a good thing his hands were secured behind his back for that part. "Think about pleasing your sir, Sam. Focus on that and nothing else," Nathan said.

That's easy to say, another thing to do, especially when now that he's about to be presented to Castiel, his dick _is_ trying to get hard in its confines. It makes him squirm. Nathan slapped his ass for that. Can he do that? He did that. Then smirked at him. Sam's only saving grace, is that with his cock in a cage, his fears of people seeing how much his cock likes it will not come to pass. Maybe he can play like he hates this? Part of him does. But a bigger part of him is eager, eager to show Castiel how well he can follow instruction; behave.

He was told to follow Nathan and he did, but the first step out that door was fucking nerve-wracking, so he also followed Nathan's advice, _focus on your Sir,_ even if he's not exactly sure that's what Castiel is. Sam knows he thinks twice about calling him anything else, but does that make him his Sir?

He made it out the door, now he's walking down a long hallway—the longest hallway in existence. His shoulders are beginning to feel the burn of their position and it's now, he notices, just how on display his caged cock is, since his upper thoracic has to arch to accommodate the position of his arms and shoulders. He's also got a set of cuffs that match his wrist ones, around his ankles. He doesn't know what they're for, he's just glad they're not attached like Nathan's are—Sam's sure he'd never be able to walk as gracefully as Nathan.

They walk until they reach two, solid mahogany doors. Two more naked men, dressed similar to Sam and Nathan are there and swing the doors open for them. Once inside, Nathan skillfully sinks toward the floor, kneeling on the hard marble. Sam's not sure if he should do the same, Nathan hasn't given him any instruction, so he looks around instead.

In the room is a long, thick-wooded dining table with rows of chairs on either side. Sitting at the head is Castiel. Sam jumps. He should have expected to see him, but he didn't. His heart beats in the funny way Cas seems to make it beat, like a horse at full gallop.

Sam is shy all of a sudden. He bows his head and bites his lip, the long strands of hair fall and partially cover his face. He hears the click of boots as Castiel approaches, his whole body prickles when Cas uses a strong angel hand to tilt his chin up, gently, so Sam has to look him in the eyes, while Cas stares and stares.

Sam can't bear the silence anymore. "D-do you like it, sir?" He hates the way his voice trembles as it has a habit of doing in Cas's presence.

"Like it? Fuck. Samuel. Thank you for this, you are more beautiful than I imagined when I pictured you. This is a gift. But I honestly didn't think you would do it."

"I didn't want to," Sam admits. "I still feel weird about it." The pride Sam feels now, having heard how pleased Castiel is with his choice to wear what he's wearing is worth any apprehension he might have felt. Apprehension, that's still there, but dimmed enough the feeling of pride takes lead.

"I know. That you didn't want to makes it so much sweeter. But whether you wanted to or not, you like it."

It's not a question. Sam's glad because he doesn't want to answer it, but his head can't help answering to himself. _He does likes it._ The way his dick is bursting against the cock cage makes that undeniable, he can't lie to himself anymore.

Why does he like this? Well that's harder to figure out.

He's sure about one thing, he knows he'll do anything to have Cas keep smiling at him like that, with pride and adoration. He did that; Sam. He made Cas happy with such a simple act, one that didn't cost him in anyway. He feels added to.

"When you move in, I'll be making additions to your outfit. Of course this," he says grabbing Sam's confined cock, "will always remain locked away, released only at my discretion. I promise you, it won't be often and you will earn it."

As much as all of that sends tingles straight to his groin and even around the entrance of his ass, there's one part he frowns his brow at. "Move in?"

"Yes move in. I expect your services twenty-four seven. How will you do that if you're not moved in?"

"Treat a guy to dinner before you start moving him in," Sam says. Inside he's freaking.

"You are correct, beautiful boy. I'm getting ahead of myself. You'll have to forgive me, I've never been so enamored." Sam blushes and relaxes some. He doesn't mean today, but he does mean at some point. That's still cause enough to have Sam's heart continue to flutter.

"Please, come eat with me."

Dean's right. As Sam assesses the situation, the only way for him to eat is by Cas's hand. And his hands tied as they are, how can he sit on a chair? The edge maybe? He gets the answer to one question when he sees that the chair adjacent to Cas's has no back. "Please, sit."

Sam does, but he's sure he doesn't look nearly as graceful as Nathan, who's still by the door. He knows he isn't, since his descent ends with a bit of a thud. There is a placemat before him with no cutlery. Sam starts to get suspicious. Cas nods toward the serving staff—naked men and women with the standard leather accouterments. Some of these ones have fancy jewels in their hair, or at places on their person.

Sam is served a plate; steak with broccolini and mashed potatoes. He also notices his steak has been cut into bite sized pieces. Castiel is served the same, only he does have cutlery and a steak fully in tact.

Cas slices into his steak and begins eating, he looks to Sam to do the same. "How am I supposed to eat without my hands, sir?"

Castiel shrugs, a mischievous smile spread across his face. "I don't know, but I can't wait to see how you figure it out. You will won't you, Samuel? That would please."

 _I'll show him pleased,_ Sam bristles. Sure he's naked, wrapped in kinky bondage and wearing a chastity device (which is already making him squirm, since without his hands, he can't adjust his balls just right), but eat like…like what, a dog? And at this fancy table, while Cas staunchly enjoys his meal? No fucking way.

"Second thought, not hungry. I'll just, sit here." Sam takes it further, leaning away from the table.

The look Sam gets is worse than when his father used to look at him that way: Complete and utter disappointment that pierces him. Sam's always taken great pride in pleasing everyone, but why should he care about Castiel? They only just met yesterday. Teenage masturbation fantasies aside.

And then Cas goes and says it. "Disappointing Samuel." He taps his fork against his lips. "That one was simple. Perhaps I misread you—if you can't do this, you won't be able to do some of the more adventurous tasks I had planned."

"What is this? Some guilt trip?"

"No guilt trip. Just facts."

Sam's bottom lip wobbles at the rejection. It's this same wobbling lip that leads him to believe, _he actually believes_ there's truth in Cas's statement. "What do you want from me?" Yeah. He left the appellation off on purpose.

Cas is up so fast, Sam barely sees him move. In even less time, Sam is flipped helplessly over one of Cas's knees, Cas having planted his booted foot on Sam's special chair and Sam has to flail uselessly as Cas spanks his ass with a flurry of smacks. Worst of all, Nathan is still in the room and is witness to Sam's shame and punishment, as he kicks his legs. "Ow! What are you—ouch!" As far as pain goes, Sam's had brawls with Dean, which have led to some serious bruising and even (always by accident) broken bones and blood. Their father really didn't like serious fighting. Roughhousing was one thing and even the odd scrap, but they were family and they were supposed to work out their differences like adults. They did most of the time, but on occasion; brawls. Dad always pulled out his strap for these kinds of fights.

Point being, both the pain endured during the brawl and during the subsequent strapping was worse than what he's receiving now. He _should_ be able to stay still and take it, but the indignation of it all—being spanked by Cas and in front of Nathan and anyone else who happened by—makes him want up and want up now. As it turns out, that won't be happening until Cas is done. "Naughty," Cas says. "That was naughty. I've instructed you on several occasions what to call me. I am Sir. I have been considerate and patient, but you're still disobeying me; this is your final warning."

Warning? This is his idea of a warning? His ass is beginning to _feel_ it. Not knowing how much longer he could be spanked has him very focused on each spank with the spark of hope that Cas is coming closer to being done and finally beginning to sort himself out in hopes it might lead to the spanking stopping. "Sir, I'm sorry. Sir. You're, Sir. I'll be more respectful, sir."

"There's my good boy."

_If he's such a good boy, why is he still getting spanked?_

When his ass is not-so-nicely toasted (it's warm and stingy and just this side of hurting) Cas lets Sam up. Sam can feel how hot his face has flushed from both the spanking and having received that spanking in public—and so succinctly. He's not crying, but tears sit unshed in his eyes; some of the spanks really stung! He pouts at Cas.

"Oh come now, it was just a little spanking and you deserved it," Cas says pulling him close for a hug (one Sam can't help sinking into) and reaches around to rub Sam's ass. "Isn't there something you'd like to thank me for?"

Sam's hackles rise instantly. _If he thinks he's getting thanked for spanking him…_

Cas starts tapping his ass. "Does this mean I'm going to get the opportunity to do that again? I already love spanking your bottom, especially on account of naughty behavior."

That changes Sam's tune pretty quickly. "Th-thank you for my sp-spanking, sir."

"Thank me for teaching you."

"Thank you for teaching me. Sir." Sam is not going to forget the sir for a long time, if ever.

Sam's rewarded with a kiss, Cas using his forefinger and thumb to carefully tilt his lips just so and press hips lips over Sam's, dominating them, dominating Sam. Sam's cock is trying, without success, to get hard in its confines; he's shifting for a different reason now and oh god, he's actually leaking. How embarrassing.

"There, now ask your question again, this time, how you're supposed to."

"What do you want from me, sir?" They're the same words, but they come out differently. And it's not just the use of the appellation 'sir' that's changed their context; Sam himself has shifted. Inside. Even when he looks at Cas, there is far more awe than ever before. Was it the spanking that did that? No. That doesn't feel all the way right. The spanking's part of it, but not all of it. Spanking is simply a piece to a greater whole—a whole that Sam wants to find out more about. He feels a new thing in him and he knows it's special, the most special thing he's ever felt—all because of Cas.

"I want it all, Samuel. Everything. All of you. I won't be satisfied until I have you under my lock and key twenty-four seven. We'll marry and you will be mine. I'll be yours too, but you'll live to serve me. That's what I want."

Sam has to let that sink in. Cas isn't hiding anything from him—all the cards are laid, there's no tricks or lies. "B-but, what about me, sir? What do I get?"

Cas frowns. Sam frowns too. He doesn't like seeing Cas look at him that way, it makes his stomach take multiple plunges, which in turn make him feel a bit nauseas. "This isn't a game Samuel. This isn't some spiced up vanilla sex life, with whips and chains and rough sex. _This_ is the real deal. Submission. True Submission. You give yourself to me. Pleasing me is your reward. If you don't get that, maybe this isn't for you."

Sam's true feelings about what Cas has said, are betrayed by his jutting hips and cock, his poor cock, that just wants to erect God dammit. It's Sam's brain that short-circuits over "what Cas wants." He looks down, disappointed in himself. He can't give Cas that—he never could. What about his life? Dean? Benny? What about the things he'd like to do?

He's not Nathan. Cas is right, he expected what he'd gotten from the sex houses he'd visited—a little bondage, some fun humiliation, spanking, definitely rough sex. But this? This is another level. A level Sam isn't.

"I've changed my mind," Castiel says.

"About what… sir?" Is Sam doing that deliberately, almost forgetting the 'sir' again? He must be. Sam wishes he could figure out why he's acting like this. It's not like he's never called anyone sir before. Dad expected sir. Sam's also worried. Is he getting kicked out? Has Castiel changed his mind about him? Sam can't believe how terrible it feels to think he might not be what Castiel wants. Only a second ago, he was thinking it himself, but now, when push comes to shove, he wants to plead with Castiel that he is. He can be what Castiel wants. Fuck. What's wrong with him?

"I changed my mind. I wasn't wrong. I'm right. Sam, if this isn't you, isn't truly in you, right here," Cas says tapping Sam's chest. "I'd never force you into my service, but if it is, if this is how you're constructed inside and I think you are, then I want to force you to do everything."

"What sense does that even make?"

Cas cocks an eyebrow at him. Shit. He forgot the appellation—what the fucking fuck? How could he forget so soon? "Sir." He can't help feeling he should thank Cas for his mercy—not spanking him again.

"I would push you to your limits, Samuel. There are going to be things you're not going to like, that's why the wanting to please me would be important."

Sam gets that bit now, least he thinks he does. He wouldn't have made it to this room if he hadn't been thinking about pleasing Castiel.

"The kind of submissive I'm looking for, enjoys being pushed, likes the challenge of where I'll take them."

Sam swallows.

"And something I promise. A vow I would make to you, you will be the most important person to me. I would always take good care of you. You would never feel unloved; you would always be treasured."

Sam leans in as Cas caresses his cheek. Then Cas reaches behind him and releases the clip binding his arms together. The ache in his shoulders is relieved—but Sam doesn't feel good. He feels, empty. Dejected. He tries not to let on though and rubs out the ache in his shoulders as he fixes Cas with a look. "I don't want to be your punching bag, sir."

"Is that what you think I'm asking for?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. It's a tiny key. "If it is, tell your brother and his husband not to allow me anywhere near you." He shakes his head. "No, no beautiful boy. That's not what I have in mind for you. I want to teach you, soothe you, make you shine—show everyone how beautiful you are. Because your submission would be something beautiful, something to adore." Cas nocks his head, indicating Sam should follow him. He leads him over to his side of the table and snaps his fingers at one of the serving staff, who seems to know what he wants.

She brings out a large, purple pillow. "Would you sit there please, Samuel?" It's not a question, much as it might sound like it is, but he believes Cas when he says he can leave at anytime. "Kneel." He places the tiny key near his plate. Sam knows this is the key to the cock cage he's wearing, but he doesn't know what Castiel intends on doing with it.

Sam does as instructed. He kneels. He hasn't been instructed to kneel any particular way, so he kneels like he's been told by other Doms he's kneeled for. Hands on his thighs, toes flat, he looks at the floor. Cas sits and in short order, something is offered to him on a fork. He accepts it, more confused than before. "Is this more what you expected?" Cas asks.

"I did, sir."

"And how do you feel about it?"

"Honestly?"

"I will require honesty from you, Samuel. Always."

No matter how many times he says it, Cas saying his name like that makes his knees weak, even with them firmly on the floor. "Honestly, I'm fucking bored, sir."

"Me too."

Sam gets it. He really, really gets it. Much as whatever "Cas's way" is scares him, it's an exciting kind of scared. Sam always did like a challenge.

"Your arms are free Samuel, did you realize?"

"I did, sir." Painfully so. More painful than how painful having them bound was. He hates being reminded of their freedom.

"It upset you when I freed them. Do you know why?"

Yes. He felt… _not good._ More specifically empty, dejected. Rejected. "I do, sir."

"Enlighten me," Cas says, smirking.

Fucker. He already knows. He's making Sam say it. Much as Sam's irked by Cas, he can't help the smile in his voice when he speaks, each word feeling like a much needed confession. "When my arms were bound, it was uncomfortable, but I knew it pleased you, it…gave me pleasure to feel the slight pain, to suffer for you, knowing how proud it would make you."

"You're still wearing that uncomfortable looking cock cage."

"Yes sir, it's something, I guess."

"But you need more, don't you? You need to be completely owned. In every way."

Sam doesn't want to admit it, especially out loud (for Nathan to hear). He does anyway—there's freedom in that too. "Yes, sir."

"I'd even put money on, from the way you're trying to avoid looking at the key, that you're hoping I don't remove that from you too. That I'll somehow forget it's there?"

Sam is doing just that. Every time his cock tries to spread its wings, he wants to tell Cas to remove the cage, but every time he thinks he's going to say something about it, something stops him. A feeling. It's indescribable. He knows it relaxes him and simultaneously gives him purpose. "Yes, sir," he says in a small voice. "I wish to, bear the discomfort for you, sir."

Cas offers him more steak, he accepts it and chews thinking, while Cas also thinks, so loud he can practically hear. The silence continues and Castiel continues to feed Sam until Sam's belly is actually full (Cas did have to dip into Sam's plate) and the serving staff comes to take the empty plates away. Without warning, Cas pulls Sam up and sits him on the table in front of him, legs spread, imprisoned cock on display. Cas leans in licks around the balls. Sam hisses and tries to hold still hoping Cas will go for the bit of the head of his cock that isn't covered by the cage. Pre-come is leaking steadily, which Sam didn't know could happen while wearing chastity. The leaking is embarrassing; it shows just how needy he is. Now he's learned his cock doesn't have to be erect for everyone to see just how much he enjoys this.

Cas doesn't lick the head. Doesn't go near the head. After too short a time, he pulls away, it's hard for Sam not to whimper, so he does. Cas looks pleased with how much Sam is suffering. "I have a question to ask you Samuel, it's important, so pay attention." He's smiling in a new way, different than all the other ways. It's a smile that Sam's sure means trouble for him. "Do you want me to take this off?"

Fuck. Does he? Of course he does. He wants it off. Now. Yesterday. This whole evening has been all of Sam's secret (even to himself, but not so secret to Cas) fantasies brought to life, he's practically exploding, he wants to come and he knows he won't with this contraption on.

But the question is not as simple as his dick would like it to be. Cas is also asking if Sam wants to do this with him—submit it all, everything to him. Giving up the rights to his cock is step one.

"You should know that your service to me will include full-time chastity in a special chastity device just for you. Ruined orgasms will be something you should get used, coming will not be often; you will earn that privilege." Cas lists for him what he expects; makes it clear what Sam's submission would entail, no sugar coating.

 _And with the rights to his cock, of course go the rights to coming. Package deal._ The fucked up thing is, he wants to say yes. Something about this (Lord only knows what) is appealing to him and makes him all the more excited with the anticipation of it. "What if I can't sir? What if I hate it?"

"Something tells me you won't," Cas says as he watches Sam's hips, which are still, but they both know, are itching to move forward and hopefully have Cas's tongue go back to work licking his balls again—even with the knowledge he won't get to come. "But you're free to leave anytime, Sam."

That's the second time he's done that—just Sam. Sam can't say he likes it much. He doesn't hate it, but it doesn't give him the same thrill as _Samuel._ "Anytime I want, I can just up and leave, sir?"

"You may end your service to me at anytime. I want you to give yourself to me. I won't lie, I want to take you too Samuel and I will, but I want you to _want_ it. I want you to _want_ to suffer for me."

Sam nods, understanding just a little more.

"So beautiful boy? What will it be?"


	3. Bookstore Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we should just jump into the kink. Yeah? Okay.
> 
>  
> 
> Updates for those who want to know: 
> 
> I have 2 chapters for WW I'm sitting on. There's one part that's not quite right, but they are written and will come out soon. (Hopefully today)
> 
> I'm going to work on three chapters for _For You_ next.

Sam has to shift and adjust, shift and adjust, shift and adjust. It irritates him and puts him in a bad mood. So when Dean tries at his usual morning vitriol, Sam loses it. "Do you have to be so God Damn loud, Dean? Some of us like quiet in the mornings."

"Jesus you sound like Dad. Who pissed in your cornflakes?"

Pissing—that's never going to be the same again. Something he didn't think about last night when he agreed to this insanity, but he has been since his first piss of the morning. "You Dean. Make yourself useful and get me some coffee."

"I'll get you coffee all right, it comes with a punch in the nuts."

"Isn't it a little early you two?" Benny says from his usual place at the table.

"Sam's in a pissy mood. Bet his new boyfriend didn't—"

"Enough, Dean," Benny says recognizing the murderous look in Sam's eyes, but no his new boyfriend didn't for anyone wanting to know. "Would you please get your brother some coffee, Cher? And me too?"

"Only 'cause you asked, Ben," Dean says.

"Hey, didn't you two have some kind of date last night?" Sam asks, wanting any distraction from his predicament.

"Yeah, Benny took me somewhere fancy, 'cause of the big pay check we got. He even ordered wine and everything," Dean says.

Benny laughs. "If that was so exciting for yah, why'd'ya pass on the wine and order beer?"

"It's the thought that counts, babe." Dean kisses him and hands him his mug of coffee first.

"I take him to the fanciest steakhouse in town and he orders a burger."

"Hey, if their steaks are that good, think about what their burgers would be like. Delicious by the way." Dean hands Sam his coffee. "Are you going to tell us about your night, Sammy?"

Sam can't help himself, despite everything, the metal around his cock and the resulting discomfort, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, concealed by this clothing (the ones Sam began to balk at, then had Castiel comment that Sam's lucky he's not going to attach them—this time) he's smiling like a boy on the first day of summer. He's gone. Gone, gone. He may be confined by all of that stuff, but he feels free. Freer than ever.

"Would you look at that, Ben? I think my baby brother's in love."

Sam is something. He knows the thought of Cas makes him feel like he's soaring. "I…we're going to try something."

Sam said no. Which meant yes to everything. He said no he didn't want the cock cage off and yes to pledge his service to Castiel. And funny thing? He's really excited about what that might mean. Sam has conditions too, things he's not willing to budge on, since he knows Cas intends for them to marry. Most important to him, he wants to be courted. Call him a romantic sap; Sam promised he would throw himself into his training, but Cas has to court him, no ifs, ands or buts. This meant he could go home as he pleased and he would stay at Cas's home, (the freaking palace!) on an interval basis.

Cas's stipulation, to accepting his stipulation was that he cut his shifts at the bookstore down to three days a week and allow him to subsidize whatever Sam would usually make and that _if_ things didn't work out (which Cas was sure they would) this compensation would continue until he found another job, or forever if Sam wanted. This came as a relief to Sam, much as he loves working in a bookstore, he can't stand his creepy boss and could use a break from the place. Three days should be enough to remind his boss that Sam's got an eye out for Kevin. It was a compromise Sam was willing to make.

He had other demands, which amused Cas. Already, he learned how many responsibilities Castiel had, as Crown Prince, being a toy canine on a pillow, while he's off doing Princely things would drive Sam mental. Sam wanted a way to amuse himself while not in service to Castiel, to which Castiel replied that Sam would always be in service to him and tried to distract Sam with mind-melding kisses.

Sam did flex some of his muscles (after a kiss or five) gripping Castiel firmly, to stop him being kissed and telling Cas, he understood that part, twenty-four seven means what it means, but there ought to be some down time when he stayed at the palace. He didn't get a no to that one when they were negotiating, but Cas was a little arcane with his response. "For now, can I make you the promises that you'll never be bored and that I'll make sure you enjoy every moment of your training period?"

To which Sam replied, "Courting period."

"Same difference, Samuel."

Sam shovels eggs into this mouth as he remembers the cheeky smile on Cas's face and how Cas's finger felt as it rubbed between the cheeks of his ass, circling his hole now and again, making his dick want to cry. The prospect of what Cas might do, not knowing, but having promises of enjoyment intrigued him enough, he'd conceded for now. After all, nothing was written in stone, they could change and negotiate as they pleased. He kind of wanted to see what Cas had in mind.

"Good. More chances to woo you, my love."

"Sam. Sam. _Sammy!_ "

"What? Oh, yeah, Dean."

"Lookit that, Ben. Head in the clouds," Dean says with a big, goofy grin. "I was saying, better finish your breakfast, or you're gonna be late for work."

**

Sam shares the news with his boss that he'll be cutting his shifts, effective immediately, by royal decree (Cas told him to say that if he needed to and from the look he got he needed to). Sam's not normally such a dick, but he can't help but feel he wants to get back at the smarmy old dude. The guy keeps promising Sam a raise that never comes and he never gets the time off he requests even though he rarely requests time off.

Often, he'll get Sam to organize books a particular way, only to tell him he's done it wrong. He nit picks Sam every chance he gets and basically makes Sam's life a living Hell however he can. He's worse with Kevin—his younger co-worker.

"So you're leaving, Sam?" Kevin asks.

"No. Just cutting back my shifts. I'll be here enough to keep him honest."

"That's nice of you Sam, but you don't have to do that for me."

That's when said douche, pokes his nose in at them. Probably heard everything judging by the look on his face. "Kevin, I need you in the back today. Got a big order. 'Sides, that'll keep you two from fraternizing all day and not getting any work done."

Right, 'cause they never get their work done.

Later, Sam is placing a book on one of the high shelves, it's so high even he needs a ladder, when he hears the jingle of the little bell that hangs over the door. He almost falls off when he turns to see who it is. "Cas? Fuck. Sir." Just the sight of him makes Sam squirm.

"Hello Samuel. You got a kiss for me, beautiful boy?"

He's not sure how he feels about kissing at work (he might want a bit of revenge on his boss but he's got some morals), especially certain someone's who definitely will take the opportunity to fondle him. Sam trips down the ladder anyway (usually he's got much more finesse) and falls into Cas's arms. Cas presses him against the counter and Sam enjoys the feeling of just taking it, as Cas dominates him, which includes his tongue down Sam's throat. "You taste divine," Cas says.

Sam is speechless, staring up at Cas like he's a wondrous moon, or stars in the sky, or, fuck Sam's gone. He's turned into more of sap than usual. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"I've come to see my favorite person."

Sam's sure that's true (he's already starting to believe that) but he's not fooled. "You've come to check up on me." Since he would not be living at the palace, for the time being, Cas deliberated that he would need to give Sam a key to his chastity device. Safety and all that. He would have to trust that Sam wouldn't take it off unless given permission, which he has for cleaning only. And even then, only once per day. If he disobeys, it's expected he'll tell on himself. Yeah, that's not happening. As if he'd ever rat himself out.

Sam decides to play a game of his own. "Did you come to see if I've been a good boy?"

Castiel is very good at keeping his composure, so the slight widening of his eyes and the smallest of hisses Sam's able to procure, are prizes worth mentioning. "Careful, Samuel. Talk like that's going to get you bent over this counter, my cock up your ass."

"That's not a deterrent, sir."

Castiel smiles. "I've changed my mind." Even though it was the right decision, Castiel had been disappointed that he had to give Sam a copy of the key to his cock cage, since he wanted to hold onto the _only_ key, more proof that Sam was his. "I'm going to like you having a key. It's more fun this way. I like knowing you have the key, but you're choosing not to use it, for me, despite really wanting to take it off, even just for a second. I'm sure you're tempted to take it off. The torture of it agonizing. Isn't that right, Samuel?"

"Yes, sir." True. All of it true. He's taken to fiddling with the key in his pocket constantly having to decide whether to leave it on or not.

"I like having to come to see if you've been a good boy. Show me."

It's Sam's turn to be surprised. "Here?"

"Right here. Right now. Let's go, boy. Unless you want a spanking too?"

No. Sam doesn't want that, though with the way his trapped cock tries to spring to life at those words, leaking, forever leaking, you'd think he did. Sam looks around. There are customers and of course they've stopped to watch the proceedings. Sam knows asking Cas to reconsider is pointless; he knows not complying will result in that spanking. Part of him wants to rebel. Who is Cas to tell him what to do? Sam is a grown man who does what he wants. He kinda wants to see if Cas'll do it, spank him here. Second thought, Sam knows Cas _will_ spank him, Sam almost wants to see what it would feel like if Cas did, but then he'll have to endure that disappointed look. He won't get _the_ smile, or that happy, bubbly feeling, the one that makes him float when he's pleased Castiel. Worst of all, he won't get "good boy."

Does he even want good boy? He must. He's opening his pants. In case Sam thought he would get away with only a peek, Cas says, "Pull them down; to mid-thigh."

And Sam does it. Sure he grits his teeth the whole time, his cheeks aflame, but he does it. Public nudity isn't common. _This,_ isn't common. It's not against the law either. It's mostly the upper class and more often, royalty, who keep twenty-four seven submissives and parade them around. It's still quite the spectacle.

Sam peels his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh and Cas interrupts to finish the job, making sure they sit well under his ass and the chastity kit he's wearing is well in view. This one is metal and makes it look like the head of his penis is wearing a helmet made out of a cage. It attaches to his penis by way of a hollow, cylindrical piece that slips inside his penis about a centimeter—which is more than enough in Sam's opinion—but he's able to pee through it. The "helmet" covers the entirety of his flaccid cock, ending just at his balls. A ring is secured around those and they hang in limbo, between the cage and the metal ring. And now everyone can see that he belongs to someone in the most intimate of ways.

Cas lifts the shirt that's hanging to Sam's waist so he can get a better look. "You are a good boy. My very good boy."

Sam blushes deeper and preens at the praise. A bolt of electricity bursts through him. He knows he'll feel the hot shame later, at the moment, he can't care about the people around him, for how good he feels pleasing his sir. "Thank you, Sir."

Castiel kisses him as reward then fixes Sam's pants, so his ass is covered, but his locked up cock is on display. His whole body prickles as he guesses what Cas is up to. "You will leave this open for the remainder of your shift. Everyone will see and know how much you enjoy being kept chaste just for me."

Fuck that makes him shiver and leak. Cas takes it further by fondling his balls and petting his cock through the cage. He's becoming so needy, he whines and pouts at Cas, shifting his hips, trying to have Cas's finger touch him again. His cock gets a light whack. "Bad boy. You get what I give you, nothing more."

Sam has to bite his lip at the sharp disapproval, compounded by everyone having seen him misbehave for his Sir. He doesn't know which part of it is the most embarrassing, being exposed for all to see, being told what to do, or being scolded like a naughty little boy for misbehaving for Sir. It's probably all of it. The only thing Sam's sure of is he wants to be back in Castiel's good graces. Not only because he knows further punishment is eminent, he wants to make Cas proud. "Sorry, sir. You just… I want you so bad."

He tries to give Cas the look, the one he's been told makes it hard to stay mad at him. Dean's way better at it, but Sam can do it if he really puts his mind to it. He's not successful. "I'm afraid that's earned you a punishment, Samuel." Cas doesn't look to be sorry about it, it looks like he's giddy. "I do enjoy your excitement, but you must learn to keep that excitement under control—for particular times."

"But how will I know, sir?" What is Cas going to do to him now?

"You will learn. I will teach you. No time to begin your training like the present." And that's half the fun, he doesn't say, but Sam knows he's thinking it. "Naughty boys who cannot control themselves spend time in corners, thinking about how to behave for their Sirs."

"H-here? Don't I get a warning, sir?"

Sam looks around; everyone is watching, fascinated. Even the owner of the bookstore, who was only just complaining about workplace efficiency, is watching with interest. Shouldn't he be stopping all this nonsense? Sam has work to do.

"Here was a good enough place for you to act like a shameless tart. Yes here. If you don't want to be disciplined in public, I suggest you behave in public. I am under no obligation to give you a warning. That corner. Let's go. I don't have all day to discipline you, Samuel." Except "Samuel" feels like Cas does have all day to discipline him. His tone gives it all away and Sam's sure, Cas would let the Kingdom go to Hell if there was discipline to give him.

Not wanting additional punishment by irritating Cas further, Sam heads toward the designated corner and stands in it, but he's not so lucky as to have it left at that. "Hands behind your head, I want your elbows each touching a wall." Sam does as instructed, fuming the whole time, so distracted by his fuming, he doesn't realize his pants are being pulled down to below his ass cheeks and that they're being warmed by Cas's hand, 'till the first smack lands. These smacks are hard and are no joke. They're still manageable, but they're much worse than his spanking last night. It's hard not to jump out of the way, but his world has become narrow, focused only on the spanks he's being given now by Sir.

He doesn't count how many he's been given, but when Cas is done, there are tears. Cas runs a hand gently over his raw cheeks. "We needed to give them _something_ to look at while you stand here for me, beautiful boy."

Sam thinks just him standing in a corner, in public is enough to "look at."

"Sure these people saw your poor behavior, but what about customers coming in after I'm gone? They need to know you were naughty. Nothing says naughty like a pink bottom."

"You're leaving, sir?" Sam should care about a million other things, but he's only concerned about Cas leaving.

"I'll be back in ten minutes darling boy. You need to think about your behavior, alone." Cas's voice is dark; Sam feels every bit the misbehaved boy. He gets why Cas is leaving too, it will heighten his embarrassment. It will be challenging not to think about the stares he'll get; to focus on Cas when he's not here. Sam did promise to throw himself into his training, Cas isn't offering him training wheels. Cas's breath is hot in his ear, "And this will help you too." He pats Sam's bottom. "Just feel the sting and think of me, my love."

Like a ghost, Cas is gone.

Sam's never felt so alone. Even with the fifty or so people he knows are behind him. Thankfully, not touching him is implicit. He belongs to Prince Castiel Novak, at least for the time being, anyone stupid enough to touch him without permission will have their hands removed. He takes comfort in that much. The same protection, does not extend to leering. Cas wants them to leer. Stare. Whisper things. Sam is supposed to ignore all of that. _Nothing is as important as pleasing, Sir._ They do say things that Sam can hear as he stands, bottom smarting, on display in the naughty corner. "I can't believe he would behave so poorly for Prince Novak," and "I hope he learns his lesson." Some feel sorry for him, "Poor thing," and "I hope he's not cold."

No he's not thank you. He's too fucking hot to be cold.

And there are children for Christ's sake, Cas! What about them?

If you can believe it, no one seems to be taking this as anymore than a person receiving punishment due, rather than something sexual to turn eyes away from—nobody's witnessing anything other than a naughty, naked bum. "That looks funny Mama!" one child says. Sam's miffed about that the most—no one seems to think there's anything _wrong_ with this. Shouldn’t someone come to his defense?

No one thinks they should.

The only thing that does happen, is his boss coming up to him and saying, "Any time you spend earing punishments, I expect to be made up, otherwise it's coming out of your pay."

Asshole. He wasn't happy with Sam telling him he could only work three shifts a week, but he accepted it, not wanting to piss the angels off.

All of that _must_ have taken five minutes, Sam hopes. He remembers he's supposed to be "thinking" about his "behavior." How can he when all he can think about is what the others are saying? and worse, what they're thinking and _not_ saying. Fuck, this is hard. But Castiel has followed through on his end of the bargain, Sam is to throw himself into his training. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes (Cas didn't say he couldn't), he makes sure he's standing per Cas's instructions. Elbows touching, hands behind his head, smarting bottom displayed.

He focuses on that. His smarting bottom. That was Cas's advice. Okay, he takes stock. It hurts. _Fucking_ hurts, not 'can't sit down hurts' (though for a second he wonders what he'll do to earn one of those spankings, because it's only a matter of time) but 'I want, need to fucking rub it' hurts. He can't though. Another second is taken to curse about not being allowed to rub, then he focuses. He starts with the pain again, but this time lets it spread 'till he is the pain, 'till he's above the pain and finally 'till the pain guides his thinking. He already gets it. Control. He's given control to Castiel, but his actions said otherwise, now he's being put in his place in a way he finds aphoristic, because being put in a corner, your pants pulled down just so, for all to see is distinctive. Only Castiel's law matters to Sam.

But the other side of the coin appears as he thinks and it's the simple thing he knows. _He does want to please Cas. Has been looking for someone like Cas to please._ He already knows how much his obedience pleases Cas and how much he'd rather feel that burst of happy approval.

The bell over the door rings. The door opens and closes. New people come, old people go. Sam remains in position, being good for his Sir. When he feels Castiel's arm sliding around his waist and hears him say, "Time's up, my precious one. Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, sir," Sam says, leaning back and nodding into his neck. And he really did try.

"That was hard on me, don't make it so I should have to punish you again, soon."

Hard on him? What about Sam? Cas spins him around, so Sam can see the playful smile there; he's rewarded with another kiss as Cas pulls Sam's pants up to cover his bottom, but not his cock. "I always do what is right by you, for us. What did you learn, my boy?"

"That, fuck, that I'm…" Sam wants to say that he's Cas's. It's pretty obvious by now that he is. Even if he wanted to deny it, his caged, leaking cock says otherwise, but Sam can't say it. "That you're the boss of me, sir." It's true. He can tell Cas isn't satisfied with the answer, but lets it go.

"Okay. That's a good start. I am the boss of you." He pushes Sam's hair back. "I want to stay here with you, but I have Kingdom matters to attend." He kisses Sam's forehead. "Well? Aren't you going to invite me for dinner?"

Dinner? At the Ranch? He's unprepared, what do you feed royalty? Is Cas going to make him eat from the floor on a pillow in front of his brothers? "I hadn't planned on it, sir." He makes sure it's not too cheeky. He's already picked up that Cas likes to be playful, he tests the waters, but in light of just having been punished, he's careful.

 _You're clever,_ is what the resulting smile he gets from Cas seems to say. "But you'll make plans?"

Wow. Cas _is_ actually asking. And he looks too adorable to say no to, with his scruffy dark hair and sullen blue eyes. "I'll make plans, but Cas, I have nothing to feed you." He knows it as soon as he's said it. "Fuck. Sir."

Cas clucks his tongue. "My, my, we're really naughty today."

"I didn't mean it, sir. _Sir._ " Maybe if he says it twice that will make up for calling him Cas. Sam sighs. Who is he kidding? Cas loves punishing him.

"Is it really so hard to call me, Sir?" he says. Sam hates the way Cas's voice sounds. Just a thread of melancholy, but it's there. "You don't respect me? Is that it?"

"No, no. No, sir. I just want to feel, close to you, C-Cas," he dares. Sam is still in Cas's arms. He waits, hoping Cas doesn't dump him here in front of everyone.

Sam is surprised when he gets pulled in for yet another kiss—how many times is that now? There must be a quota—number of times you can kiss in a bookstore, at work, something. "I see. I thought you were being belligerent. It's affection."

Can he not know? He is an angel, but Sam doesn't think that's it. The angels are familiar with the habits and whims of humans by now. This is Cas understanding Sam. _His_ human. "I suppose, for you, I could issue extra warnings. I'm not encouraging the use of this, pet name, mind—"

"It's not a pet name, sir, it's just your name."

"My name is Castiel. Cas is a pet name."

Sam glowers, but doesn't say anything to that. He can't. He supposes Cas does think of Cas as a pet name.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I can't encourage the use of pet names, but I can be lenient about usage."

"How lenient, sir?" Sam smiles.

Cas works on adjusting Sam's hair (since he did mess it) and smoothing out Sam's shirt. "Guess you'll find out."

"But, how is that fair?"

"Fair? I was trying to be fun, not fair. How much fun is it if you know?"

Okay, he has a point.

"Besides, it'd only be a little spanking. You got one for that particular infraction last night. Was it so bad?"

Customers are still around them, still listening; Sam blushes. "No, sir." It really wasn't. Didn't even hurt really, maybe just his pride.

"See? It's just a fun reminder. And look at me, how much I spoil you." He's proud of himself. And he's cute when he's proud of himself. Sam smiles at him, feeling that helpless feeling he knows means he's lost to this man. He wishes he wasn't. It's an overwhelming feeling, a scary feeling; Sam feels out of control. "I didn't even say you could touch me like you are," Cas's voice is soft, "but I like you touching me too much to tell you to stop.

Sam didn't realize he'd begun fiddling with Cas's tie, until Cas mentions it. "And if I did this?" Sam says, sliding a hand along Cas's solid jaw, loving the way it's rough like sandpaper.

Cas puts a hand over Sam's hand, holding it there. "I'd spank you if you let go, love."

They're staring, fuck, _dreamily_ into one another's eyes. (Dean would so make fun of him right now) Sam can't stop, but the whole world has stopped, everyone knowing they're witnessing the greatest love story never told. Their foreheads slowly press together and they're swaying, dancing to music that's not playing. It's done. Sam is in love. If he wasn't sure before, he is now.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A man busts into the bookstore with a camera like he's running away from someone and he's got to be quick about it; Sam recognizes him right away: Journalist, Fergus Crowley MacLeod. Or just Crowley as he's more famously known. Journalist is kind. He's more paparazzi than anything else. "That's it kitten, give us a smile. I want something that says he owns me and I love it, Hell, I'll take, he owns me and I hate it."

Castiel is pissed. "How did he get in here?"

Several of Cas's men are pouring in the door after Crowley as he snaps pictures like a madman. "Sorry, sir. We don't know actually."

"Get rid of him." Cas has pulled Sam tighter to him, shielding all his parts, which confuses Sam. Didn't Castiel want him on display?

Crowley holds up his hands, the camera still securely in one of them. "Easy now. _Easy now!_ I'm just trying to do my job, for the people."

"What people? You have no people. Dare use a single one of those photos and—"

"—I'll never work in this town again? Please. How many times you think I've heard that? I don't work for anyone anyway, your Majesty. I have every right to these photos. Besides, first rule of journalism, protect the weak, slander the wealthy."

Sam's no lawyer, but he's pretty sure there are many problems with that statement. "I'm not the wealthy," Sam says.

"You're not the weak either with legs like that. 'Sides, it's not a rule so much as guidelines, really."

"Why you—" Sam moves to lunge, Cas stops him.

"He's not worth it, Samuel. Take this scoundrel out of here," Cas commands.

"No need, I was just leaving." Crowley feels like he's got one over on them, Sam can tell. As Crowley smirks his way out of the bookstore, Cas looks like he's going to kill Crowley. Slowly.

"You okay, beautiful boy?"

"I'm fine, sir." Though Sam is worried over what Crowley's going to write about them and which photos he's taken.

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but we have to leave, ten minutes ago." Sam is "owned" by choice, but Cas is "owned" whether he wants to be or not.

Cas growls at him. "Coming. Leave. I'm saying goodbye."

Cas runs fingers through Sam's hair. "I have to go. What time shall I arrive for dinner?"

"You're not going to tell me?" Sam teases.

"Dinner and a spanking then."

He'll do it. That's what Sam got last night. "No. Sir! Okay, seven. Seven should work." Sam says and grins.

"Remember, this stays open 'till you finish work," Cas reminds him. All Sam can do is nod at that voice. "Later, then. And Samuel?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Might want to be careful of where you leak."

Sam flushes pink. Cas leaves, pleased with himself and Sam should be yelling after him with a few parting words of his own, but he can only stand there, yes leaking, fucking leaking because he's so damned horny and is he _ever_ going to get to come? He's starting to wonder. Cas hasn't even made any mentions of sex. Oh God. This does include sex, doesn't it?

The spell of Cas is broken when his boss returns. "All of that nonsense took thirty minutes of time you're making up."


	4. Breaking the Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. One more chapter of this because there's a particular chapter I'm excited to get to after this one. 
> 
> Yes I shamelessly, _shamelessly_ referenced my own published work (Tristan) in this chapter, but it fit and I couldn't help myself. Forgive me. 
> 
> **Warning:** I may have an untagged something in this chapter, but it's not that bad, I swear (nothing worse than you've already read) and it's not going to be a thing in this story, it's just a thing for _this_ chapter for reasons. I want to keep it a surprise, so... you'll just have to be a little adventurous like in the old days of reading fiction, when tags didn't exist ;)
> 
> Thank you to you all for joining this wild ride. I'm having so much fun. 
> 
> Okay, I mean it this time, going to work on WW.

Work was a never-ending state of arousal, which made Sam a grouch. And, he had to stop at the market on the way home. He phoned Dean after work and yeah they had steaks, they do raise cattle, but there were no accouterments. And wine! Sam's pretty sure he remembers Cas liking wine. He also remembers Cas served him steak, should he serve steak again? He looked over the fish at the market—what if Cas doesn't like fish? He knows nothing about Cas. In love with him he might be, but when it comes to knowing the simplest of things, he's a fail. He decided on roast, fresh-cut yam fries, fancy salad and garlic toast with pie for dessert. The pie is mostly for Dean—he's less likely to be too much of an ass if there's pie to threaten him with. As in Sam won't give him pie if he's too much of a dick.

Kevin was disappointed. He'd missed the whole thing with Cas. "I want to meet your boyfriend dude! I wish I'd have seen all that."

Sam's kind of glad he didn't, but it reminds him that if he does make this a more permanent thing, eventually things like what happened today will become commonplace.

Dean is cleaning like a madman when Sam walks through the door. "Take your fucking shoes off dude! I just mopped."

"I was going to Dean, Jesus. Why are you being a dick?"

"Because, I'm cleaning up for your boyfriend—which we were informed of at the last minute, in case you didn't realize—and you're storming in here with your shoes on."

"I didn't storm in here. Forget it. It's not like I could say no. He's my…he's my Sir, Dean." That was hard for Sam to say, but he's proud he said it. And sure, he _could_ have said no to Cas, technically. That it was his deep blue eyes he couldn't say no to and not anything to do with being Sam's Sir is inconsequential. "You're never this much of a clean freak." This has Benny written all over it.

"This is a special night for you, Sammy."

"You had a fit when Benny told you, you had to clean the house, to the point he threatened to spank you if you continued to complain."

"Yep. Out on the front porch too and promised I'd be hollerin' enough everyone would hear me."

Sam pushes his brother, affectionately. "I do appreciate you cleaning, this is important to me."

"You really like this guy, huh?"

Sam thinks of them dancing to no music, Cas's smolder-y kisses, Cas telling him to leave his pants open at work for all to see he's taken—totally taken. "Uh-huh." Sam blinks.

"Whoa dude. My little brother, in love."

Suddenly, Sam feels exposed with all the talk about love. It makes him more uncomfortable than any of his current confines. Yeah he loves Cas. So much it makes him dizzy. He looks to the ground, running a hand through his hair. Dean puts reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's okay, Sammy. Big brother's got you. I know how you feel—I felt the same way when I met Benny, feels like your whole world fell out from under you. It's why they call it falling."

"But it was easy with Benny. You have everything you want with him. You don't have to… you get to live here."

"Sammy, I know you. Inside, out. Don't kid yourself—no one _makes_ you do anything you don't want to, not really. This has to be everything you want, or you wouldn't even entertain the idea." Dean smiles. "Nice try, kid."

Just like that, Dean goes from wise older brother, (and giving Sam something to think about) to his usual self.

And so does Sam. "Get back to cleaning, Molly Maid." Sam laughs and tears off through to the kitchen before Dean can punch him in the dick.

**

He's nowhere near ready and his nerves are shot (why is he so fucking nervous?) when Castiel shows up. He's not ready, because Castiel shows up an hour early. Sam's got an apron on and is washing lettuce, getting his long sleeves wet, because he's not comfortable enough with his cuffs to roll up his sleeves and show them off. Benny and Dean are in the shower by this point, so they're no use to him—and they'll probably be in there awhile.

Sam is too anxious to be pleased about his early dinner guest, who lets himself in the front door (it's usually unlocked except at night) and makes himself at home behind Sam, sucking on Sam's neck. "What are you doing here? It's only six." Sam is this side of freaking. Nothing's ready! He'd planned on having fun, serving Cas like a fifties househusband, he wanted this to be perfect.

Castiel frowns. "I don't like your tone, nor your lack of formal address. I said I'd be lenient, not forgo the rules all together. Sometimes, I think you never intend on coming."

That sounds like something important Sam should explore—he'd really like to come and to find out how. He's quickly figured out he'll be spending his days in a state of constant, frustrating arousal. He does remember Cas explaining something about ruined orgasms and not coming often, having to _earn_ orgasms. He doesn't know how to achieve the earning of them, but thus far, it sounds like he's far off that Holy Grail trail. "I'm sorry, sir," Sam huffs. "I wanted everything to be perfect. You kinda ruined it. I'm not even dressed, Hell, I'm not showered. I smell like dusty old books and pot roast."

Cas pulls Sam to him. "But you're here, aren't you? In my arms. That's perfect enough for me."

Sam turns his head to press his lips against Cas's cheek; he can feel Cas smile against them. "Besides, I don't just want food for dinner, I want dinner theatre. Part of the fun is watching you cook for me. Now c'mon, take this off," he says, tugging at Sam's long-sleeved flannel, the one stifling him with how hot it is outside and in here with the oven on. But Sam's got reasons.

"I'm only wearing a t-shirt underneath, sir." Sam hopes Cas will catch his drift—he's only wearing a t-shirt, which won't conceal his cuffs.

Whether Cas gets his drift or not (and Sam is sure he probably does), he says, "Don't worry, that's coming off too. You can keep the pants, but socks off—I like barefoot and in the kitchen."

A flush of indignation runs through Sam. This is part of his training, he knows, but he likes-it-doesn't-like-it. Sadly, that's the feeling that turns him on. Too much "like" and the thrill goes away, equally so with too much dislike—there's some kind of fine balance and Cas seems to know how to keep him _just_ there. All the same, he doesn't want to take his shirt off and parade around in front of Dean and Benny—it was one thing at the palace, no one knew him, really and at the bookstore, he's not close to anyone there except Kevin who didn't see, but this is different. Never mind that Dean walks around shirtless half the time. He stiffens in Cas's arms. Cas flips him and begins removing his apron.

"I'm willing to bribe you for this. It would please me so much to have you do this for me. If you do this, I will allow you to come," Cas says fixing the collar of his shirt (for no reason if he's just going to take it off!) "tonight."

Sam can't get his shirt off fast enough. Humiliation be damned. He's bigger than Dean anyway—if Dean says one word, nut punch.

Cas laughs at him. "Are we just a bit eager, my boy?"

"Yes, sir. So this is one way I can, earn an orgasm?" Just saying that feels abasing. Sam didn't realize how mortifying it could be to have to earn orgasms, behave for them _and_ say that out loud, but some part of him loves all of that. Sam is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures.

"It won't always be this easy. And sometimes you'll have to settle for earning relief, versus release. You won't like it, but you'll do it for me if that's what I want."

Fuck. When Cas says things like that to him in that rough, commanding voice, it paralyzes him, makes it so he can't speak, sends arousing tingles everywhere. Sam knows he will too. He wants to do what Cas wants, he's just not ready to give in yet. Not completely. There's still something he's looking for, what? He doesn't know, but he's certain Cas will show him.

"What's the difference between relief and release, sir?" They sound the same to Sam and have been used in the same context with past Doms he's seen at the sex houses. Sam's shirts are off by this point, Cas takes them from him and slings them over his shoulder.

He yanks Sam to him. "Tonight, precious one, you'll get release. Next time, I'm afraid, it will be relief only. I'll make sure these are emptied," Cas says, grabbing Sam's balls, "but you won't orgasm."

"That sounds awful, sir." If it's so awful, why is Sam leaking more at the thought?

"It is awful." But Cas is smiling like it's the best thing in the world.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a sadist, sir."

"You're only just figuring that out?"

Sam groans. Yeah, Cas is a fucking sadist all right.

Cas bends his head to suck on one of Sam's nipples. It takes all his effort to hold still and just take it. He remembers his earlier lesson and doesn't feel like having to stand in the kitchen corner with a spanked bottom; he can only disappoint Cas so many times in one day and today, he's really struck out. Heaven help him, he can't control his moans. "Mnmh, Cas…" Sam's hand grips Cas's shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"That's one," Cas comes up to say a smile all the way across his eyebrows. As Cas continues to suck, lick and even bite, Sam has to fight not to just push his cock (which will settle for some frottage) into Cas; would feel so fucking good. But he wants to be good, he longs to hear Cas's praise and he does. "That's it, my good boy. I'm glad I get to put my good boy markings on you."

Good boy markings? Sam didn't know there was such a thing. He likes them. Already he does and even though, in the back of his mind he knows Dean and Benny will see them, he can't care. He's Cas's good boy. Now everyone can see. He has to focus hard, so he doesn't move as Cas reaches some more ticklish spots and also the erogenous zones, which happen to be some of the ticklish spots. Sam hisses, groans, whimpers, but remains as still as humanly possible. Cas returns to his lips smiling like the cat who got the canary. "You learned your lesson well, beautiful boy. I'm going to make your orgasm sensational."

"When, uh…when… do you know when that might be, sir?"

Cas is enjoying Sam's suffering way too much. "I do happen to know."

"Are you going to tell me, sir? Please?" Sam will beg. He'll steal, cheat, lie, maybe even kill. Okay not kill, but it's only been a day in this thing, ask him after a week and murder might be an option. He senses long bouts of chastity are in his future, mostly because Cas promised there would be. And he's a fucking sadist. He gives Cas puppy-eyes.

"It's my job to resist that look you realize? Any job concerning you is serious. Nice try, Samuel. You'll find out soon enough. Now pull down your pants and bend over the counter, quickly, unless you want your brother and brother-in-law to see what I'm about to do. I don't care if they do, but you will."

Sam groans, but obeys, 'cause yeah he does care. If he likes this stuff (it's clear he does) then why should he care? He wishes he didn't. Will he ever not? From the corner of his eye, he watches Cas remove the long black coat (it's the middle of summer man, isn't he freaking hot in that thing?) and places it over the chair. He removes two things Sam can't see and puts them on the kitchen table a moment, so he can roll up the sleeves to his white, long-sleeved shirt and oh my lanta! does Cas look hot like that. The look says spanking. Is that what's going to happen? Sam doesn't think so, but now he's considering angling for one. Sam is bent over the counter now, his dinner abandoned (thankfully the pot roast will still be awhile) ass bared for, whatever Cas is planning. In this moment, Sam realizes the trust he's putting into Cas. This says, "do what you like, I submit" and Sam's doing it. Normally Sam doesn't trust someone he's only met a day and a half ago, but he trusts Cas, enough not to harm him anyway. He can trust Cas to spank the Hell out of him, that's certain, but he knows in his heart Cas would never harm him.

This is bolstered by the fact that Cas is about a million times stronger than him. He could hold Sam down, take him, he even has the power financially and politically to imprison him, but he hasn't. Sam's with Cas, does this with Cas, because he wants to—much as knowing that is a form of chagrin all on its own—he trusts Cas when he says Sam can leave this 'arrangement' anytime.

Sam jumps a little when he feels Cas's hand on his bare ass. "Whoa horsey."

"I'm not a horse, Cas."

Cas laughs smacking his bum a few times. "That's for calling me Cas."

"That's hardly a deterrent, sir."

"So, soon? Pardon me, I shall endeavor to deter you better in future, though if you give me excuse to spank this beautiful ass a few times a day, I shall be pleased—hard to say if it truly is disobedience in that case. I'd call that a win-win."

That makes Sam smile inside. The name thing, it's become an inside joke and he likes hearing the pure joy in Cas's voice over it.

When Cas begins gliding a finger along his crack, Sam forgets all his training and spreads his legs to give Cas better access. "You're lucky I'm just as excited and don't have my usual level of self-control around you, or I really would be spanking you. Be still."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Sam breathes. He doesn't know why he's thanking Cas so ardently. He knows well enough by now that he's not going to get to come, but he doesn't care, he wants that finger to go inside. Cas's finger. He gets his wish. It slides in to the first knuckle and Cas fishes around at the entrance. He wants to push back, for it to go further, but Sam knows better. He stays still, even if it's killing him. Cas spends a torturous amount of time teasing with that fucking knuckle—Cas has barely done anything to him, but as aroused as he is, he wants to cry. All of it is so, so good.

"Hands behind your back, grab your wrists."

Sam obeys without question.

Cas adds a generous amount of lube then pins Sam's hands, where they're clasped at the small of his back and roughly slides his fingers home. "Ah, mmnmh, oooohh…" Sam's sounds are unintelligible. He can probably be heard from here to town, but he doesn't care, his world is narrowed to Cas's finger and the enjoyment of. "Please, please, _please,_ " Sam says when Cas adds one then two fingers to the first.

Then the fingers are gone and Sam almost sobs, but it's not long and he feels something thick and bulbous at his hole. He recognizes that it's a plug, but he doesn't recognize the material. The other plugs he's worn were all made of some kind of silicone. Sam can't help his curiosity as Cas works it all the way into him and finally, stands him up, righting and buttoning his jeans. "It's angel glass my love. I already know what you look like when you wonder things and that you get quiet when you think about them. It's indestructible, it will not break inside you."

"How many more kinky angel toys, do you have, sir?" Sam remembers the "Closet of Kink" at the palace and also a smut novel he once read about kinky Elves and all their magical sex whips. He feels very much like Tristan from that novel right now.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

_Um, yeah. It's why I asked the damn question._

He's not going to get a straight answer, so he assumes lots and moves onto feeling his new ware. Having worn plugs before, he reacquaints himself with the instinctive feeling to push. When something this large is filling your ass, mechanical sensory in the large intestine tells you to push it out. It doesn't hurt, but it's not the most comfortable feeling in the world. Sam notices that it's almost, but not quite long enough to reach that magical, pleasure place inside of him, unless he shifts a certain way, which makes him want to shift a certain way. When it hits his prostate, he's able to relieve some of the discomfort of feeling like he wants to push the plug out, but it's yet another predicament, one that goes straight to his weeping cock, so he has to shift off of it, only to want to shift back on it again. It's meditated torture.

His sadist Sir, _Cas_ is loving it. "There, now I'll watch the show I came to watch," he says sitting down, sleeves still rolled up, hair mussed as usual, looking like sex on a stick, none of this helping Sam's dilemma. He thought it was bad before with the cock cage and cuffs, this is a whole new level.

"Sir. How am I supposed to cook like this? Eat dinner like this?" Oh fuck, with his brothers.

"I don't know, but I can't wait to see how you figure it out."

Asshole.

Sam is mad. Incensed. He wants to kill Cas—only for a moment. The casual, school-boy look on Cas's face softens Sam. Fuck. He's doomed. He _does_ want to do this for Cas. 'Cause wouldn't it be cool to show Cas how much he can endure for him? Like slaying a dragon—when there used to be dragons.

A plan forms in Sam's mind, he wants to make this, not just enjoyable for Cas, but so good he can hardly stand it.

**

When Sam hears heavy footsteps from the stairs, Benny and Dean, he abandons all calm, logic and any plans he might have had; the anxiety kicks in again. He's shirtless, they can see his cuffs and his markings, fuck, he's not wearing socks and he's clearly playing Suzy Homemaker to Cas who's enjoying the fuck out of it. And in case it was forgotten, there is a plug made of angel glass, which surprise, warms and vibrates when Cas decides to use his angle mojo to tease him, not to mention the nagging discomfort of it just being in him. It's beautiful misery (Sam might be a bit of a masochist, who knew?) but thinking about Dean and Benny seeing him freaks him out.

He's about to run out the kitchen door, but a flash of pink intrigues him to stay. Dean swaggers into the kitchen dressed in a frilly, pink princess dress and it looks good on him. He acts like it's no big deal and winks at Sam.

"Heya your Highness," Dean says with a curtsey.

"You don't have to call me that Dean. Castiel is fine."

Sam seethes a little. He's not allowed to call him Castiel.

"Sure thing Cas."

Now Cas glares at Dean, for the Cas, but doesn't say anything, which makes Sam madder. Where's his warning? Benny comes up behind Dean, lifts his frilly pink skirt and spanks his bare ass multiple times. _Oh fuck. Dean's not wearing underwear under that thing._ Things just got weird. "Ow, Ben!"

"Behave yourself, Miss," Benny says. Dean blushes at being called Miss. Dean's not the only one dressed up. Benny's not in a dress, but he is wearing some olden days get up. Grey slacks, a grey-blue short-sleeved button-up, with suspenders and a newsboy cap, also grey. Sam gets the dress-thing now, it's not a princess dress, it's a fancy southern belle dress Dean's wearing. They're supposed to be out of some kind of time era.

"Benny, pleased to make your acquaintance again," Cas says.

"Yes, sir."

"You may call me Castiel, Benny. No need for formalities," Cas says spying over at Sam to see how he takes that news. Totally rubbing it in. Sam can hear the pleasure in his voice. "Samuel, please get our guests some drinks."

"Guests? But this is my—"

"Sounds like somebody's asking for a spanking," Cas says. He's mostly teasing. Sam's pretty sure. Either way he gets it, they're doing some kind of role play. It's a bit weird his brother and Benny (who's like a brother) are involved, but so long as no actual sex stuff takes place, he thinks he can handle it.

"Uh, no sir. I can get drinks—what's everyone having?" And just like that, Sam forgets about his several predicaments. Cas and Benny start a conversation about horses and Dean rushes after him as Sam heads into the other room to retrieve appropriate glassware.

"What's the deal with the costumes, Dean?"

"Told you big brother's got you, didn't I, Sammy?" Dean does a little spin, enjoying his dress a little too much, but Sam smiles. Dean must have been able to tell from the phone call home that Sam was anxious about having Cas here for dinner and planned this to make him feel less weird. Benny was mysteriously absent earlier now that he thinks about it. Sam thought he was somewhere on the large property, or in the house cleaning. He'd been focused on setting a perfect table and making Cas a meal—he hadn't checked—Benny probably left to get their get-ups.

"Yeah Dean, this was great—thanks."

"Now let's talk about those wicked hickies."

"No." Sam winds up for the groin shot, but misses when Dean gracefully glides out of range.

**

The novelty of Dean and Benny's costumes wears off fast. Sam serves everything up himself, at Cas's instruction, but how grateful he is, for an invitation to the table and cutlery, even if he's shirtless like some kind of eye candy, is fucking unbelievable. Huh. He's Cas's eye candy, but wow, Cas is his eye candy too. Rawr. He left the sleeves rolled up and loosened his tie like he "just got home from work." If Dean and Benny weren't here, he'd do something to earn a spanking—it's not hard around Cas.

When he sits, he's uncomfortable again. Sitting on the thing pushes it into that 'just so' spot that makes him have to shift to pull off of it then onto it, then off again. Thankfully, he's learned with the cock cage, if he's discreet, he can adjust it before he sits down so it doesn't bother him—that's fine, but there's no chance of getting comfortable on the plug. Cas is loving it. "Shall we say grace?" Cas says.

Right. Angel. They all clasp their hands in prayer and Cas says something lovely even thanking Sam for going to all the trouble, but he takes a really fucking long time, to draw everything out, while he fucking teases Sam with the magic asshole, plug. Sam's glowering by the end of it; unable to take his eyes off Cas; Cas has to remind him to begin eating. Dean laughs at him. Sam knows Dean gets pinched under the table by Benny from the slight jump, and because it's not the first time; he recognizes the way Dean composes himself after a warning from Benny.

Sam is treated to more praise from Cas. "This roast is divine. Where did you learn to cook?"

"Uh, Dean actually, sir. He learned first, taught me then we cooked for Dad who was shit at it." It's not as embarrassing as he thought it would be referring to Cas as 'sir' in front of his brothers. Dean calls Benny sir all the time, or a lot anyway.

Sam has to focus on Cas, hard, as the plug warms and buzzes through the meal, driving him insane. He also keeps in mind the promised orgasm. He doesn't think Cas will take it away, unless he takes disrespect to new heights, but already, he wants to feel like he's really earned it. There's a lot of lip biting, shifting and awkward laughter, but Sam makes it through dinner.

Afterward, "Sam, why don't you go do whatever it is you and Mr. Castiel planned on, I'm gonna get Dean here to wash dishes in that dress," Benny says.

"Ben!"

Everyone laughs, except Dean.

"I was hoping you'd join me Samuel," Cas says.

"Join you…sir?" _Jeez Sam. Now is not the time to forget sir._

"The car has been waiting outside, I planned on stealing you away for the night."

"You planned to take me home with you?" he accuses.

"S'what he just said, Sammy."

Sam rages for a minute, but then concludes he'd rather not have the kind of orgasm he's hoping to have here where the walls are paper-thin.

**

Sam learns that Cas is skilled at schooling his reactions. When they reach his rooms in the palace (to which he was dragged, bare-foot) all of Cas's pent up arousal, his confined actions and reactions cannot be held a second longer and he unleashes them, full force, on Sam. Cas has hands in Sam's hair, over his naked torso (Cas asked him to leave his shirt off) and Sam finds something of Cas to hang onto for dear life.

Cas never did put his long coat back on and he's still rocking "just got home from work, sleeves rolled up, I could put you over my knee at any moment." Sam digs it. He digs it hard. He allows himself to become pliant as Cas kisses him. The fall to the bed is natural, with Cas straddling him, pinning his arms in a cactus position, so all he can do is lie there and be kissed.

"Sam?" Sam doesn't know why he's Sam and not Samuel.

"Cas?"

"I'm going to fuck you."

Sam licks his lips. He can hardly wait. "Will I get to come, with your cock inside me, sir?"

"Would you like that, Samuel?"

"So much, sir."

"That's not something I allow for the first time."

Sam's whole being falls and he can't believe it—he's…tears are filling his eyes. Cas wipes them away then kisses where they fell. "You've been so good beautiful boy. This is hard for you—I've watched you closely all day—yet you've thrown yourself into your training just like you promised." Cas works the buttons of Sam's jeans open to reveal his cock, still locked tight, waiting, hoping for Cas's attention, to be freed. He slides Sam's jeans off, one pant leg at a time and as he tosses them aside, the book Sam grabbed falls out from where he stuffed it into the back of his jeans. "What's this?" he asks picking it up.

Sam's up, trying to grab the book from Cas, but Cas holds it out of his reach. "Give it back, Cas."

Cas studies its cover. "Charlotte's Web? When did you obtain this?"

"When I peed before we left." Sam stopped by his bedroom, after he peed, before they left the Ranch and grabbed it. He doesn't often leave home without a book, unless he's working or otherwise distracted. It's a habit of his.

"I didn't say to bring this."

"I know, sir. It's a bit of a compulsion of mine."

"Look at this thing. It's a dog-eared mess. You need a new one."

The book might not have feelings, but Sam does and he takes the comment personally. He tries to grab for it again, Cas yanks it out of his reach again. "Not all of us have billions of dollars to buy new books, sir." Sam's getting mad now, maybe he doesn't need an orgasm that badly. Maybe he'll just go home.

Cas appraises him then finally, hands him his book, which Sam snatches. "I didn't mean to offend you," Cas says, quietly.

Sam places the book on the nightstand, far away from Cas. "Touch it again and lose a finger," Sam tells him in no uncertain terms.

"Did you just scold me?"

"D-Damn right I did," Sam says with some apprehension. But fuck that. There are some lines Cas is not allowed to cross with Sam and that's one. _Don't touch his fucking books without permission._

Cas's eyes narrow for a moment, but then his whole face lights up, smiling. "Yes, dear."

"It's not funny Cas, my mother gave me that book—it's particularly special."

"Oh my. I'm a dick."

"You are and I notice a distinct lack of sorry in your apology."

Cas pretends to be offended. "Whatever are you talking about? You've done several things to merit warnings, likely you're up to a spanking with your behavior and yet your bottom isn't stinging. I happen to think that's an awesome apology."

Sam should be appalled, but he can't help finding Cas, oh god, adorable when he's being mock-arrogant (though Sam thinks there's a lot of real-arrogant in his tone as well) and he smiles. "I suppose I can forgive you." Cas did admit to being a dick. "Though maybe you should stand in a corner."

Cas attacks his lips. "I don't think so, my love." He produces the little key out of nowhere (his copy of the key) "I only see one sub here," and pops the lock of the cage, removing it. Sam's large dick springs free, erecting instantly. _So much for his bravado about going home._

Cas is still clothed. It's painful and sensual watching him untuck his shirt from his pants then unbuckle and remove his pants. This is the first time Sam is going to see any part of Cas naked. It's better than he thought. Cas is shredded. Sam can see every line, every striation of his shoulder muscles and the hard squares of his pecs. Even each individual quad is shaped and defined. His waist tucks neatly into his pelvis and his gorgeous cock falls like a hammer, an equal distance from each thigh. Sam thinks he might like Cas's torso best (it's a toss up between that and his cock and he hasn't seen his ass yet) because it's a perfect 'V' with the lats widening all the way to underneath his armpits.

The look of Cas's body is exciting. Not just because it's pleasing, but Cas really looks like the kind who could manhandle Sam the way he wants to be manhandled. Sure, he's an angel, which by virtue makes him strong, but some of the angels don't _look_ strong. Cas does. That alone is a turn on. He's enjoying oogling Cas.

At the same time, Cas is staring at Sam, awed. Like Sam's the angel.

He slowly works the plug out of Sam's ass, taking his time, making Sam have to fight not to squirm. "You should know, beautiful boy, I want to break all the rules with you." He leans down to Sam's ear. "I want to make love to you and watch you come while you're on my cock, right now."

Of all the shivers he's felt since meeting Cas that one goes straight to his bones. It's deep, dark and dangerous. There's a menacing edge to Cas, Sam relishes in, because despite all that, he feels amazing love. Tantalizing love. Precious one is not just a pet name, it's a prayer.

Sam's already open, all Cas has to do is slide in. He does in one powerful stroke, Sam feels like he's been filled up with lightening. Cas is a driving force, but that doesn't mean Sam is just a hole (though Sam already knows, he hopes Cas will use him like that at some point) he's everything to Cas and he can feel it.

With each stroke of Cas's cock, Sam feels closer to Cas. Cas grabs under Sam's armpits and lets Cas drag him up the bed, while he simultaneously climbs up the bed too, then he's just over Sam, consuming him, pumping into him—it's all sweetness and sweat and sweaty sweetness.

But Sam has been riding the edge all day, he's not going to last, much as he wants to. He doesn't want Cas to ever pull out. "C-Cas, _sir,_ if you don't, I'm going to—"

"—Come Samuel."

Sam is gone. Gone. Gone again.


	5. Meditation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be by to answer comments from last chapter later today!

Sam saw stars. When Sam came earlier, he saw stars and now he's using fucking clichés. But someone said that once and it stuck with him. To his dismay, that someone was Dean. He likes to talk about his and Benny's sex life in front of him, when they're not doing something in front of him to be an annoying older brother, but Sam knows it's also Dean's weird way of trying to encourage Sam to find someone.

And now Sam found someone.

Sam's tangled up in that someone's strong arms, in his bed, the doors to the large terrace wide open blowing in the breeze and the moonlight. Sam is busy memorizing that orgasm, because Cas promised him it was the last he'd get for awhile. He's worried it's true. One day with Cas proved impossible, how many days he would have to go this time? Was he even going to be able to do that?

Thankfully, for now, his cock is asleep. He wants to turn to stare at Cas, so he can creepily watch him sleep, but he doesn't want to wake Cas up either. He settles for looking at Cas's hand and playing with the fingers. He knows he called Cas, Cas a couple times during their lovemaking. Cas didn't mention it in the heat of the moment, but Sam wonders if he'll get scolded for it, how he'll get scolded. Will he be punished?

It's the wonder that's fascinating. Cas is right about that. If he knew what was going to happen to him, it wouldn't be the same. Sam loves the thrill. It doesn't mean he won't be filled with indignation in the moment, but right now, he can admit to himself that he loves this. "Close your eyes, Samuel."

"I can't sleep, sir."

"Try, lovely."

"You know, I've been thinking," Sam says ignoring his most immediate orders.

"Me too," Cas says sliding a hand to tap his bottom.

Sam ignores the implication. "You're supposed to be courting me, all you've done is abduct me from my home." Sam tries to be upset over that, but he's not, he already knows he'd rather be wrapped up in Cas's arms than anywhere else.

"If you didn't need sleep, you'd be over the bed having your bottom hair brushed right now. As it is I don't want to rile you."

That makes Sam's stomach flip-flop in all kinds of good ways, but also burn with the humiliation of the thought. "I'm serious, sir. You were supposed to woo me. This isn't wooing. I'm not impressed."

"You don't think that orgasm was impressive?"

"That was impressive, but I've been following the rules Cas, you've been breaking them." Or skirting around them, more like.

Cas smiles into his neck. "Many of them in your favor."

Touché. Sam remains quiet, waiting Cas out.

"All right. Do tell, beautiful boy, how would you like to be courted?"

Sam gets a mischievous smile on his face. Cas can't see. "I don't know, but I can't wait to see how you figure it out."

**

Sam can't stop fiddling with it. It's a thick, white leather band around his neck, with a ring at the back and in the front. Sam blushes thinking about what the ring is for. Cas explained it would be for his training, but also for his leash when they're in public. Sam's not sure what to think about the last part. He's excited about the training and nervous, but more excited; the leash though, what will that be like? The collar is locked on, only Cas can take it off without destroying it (the leather can be easily cut off if need be) so there's no other option for Sam other than to let Dean and Benny see what he agreed to.

He's nervous as he creeps into the house. Cas had to apologetically get his men to drop Sam off (Princely duties and all) but not before his pants were dropped right there in the entryway, where anyone could see (and they did) Cas give Sam a thorough bare-bottomed spanking. "What's this for, sir?" Sam had wailed as Cas made good work of his cheeks and thighs.

"I'll be away from you for longer than I'd like, I'm afraid. This is to remind you to be a good boy."

And that was that. He spanked Sam as hard as he wanted, for as long as he wanted and Sam didn't complain. Much. He pouted a bit at getting a spanking "for nothing," but Cas reminded him that it was not for nothing. That remembering to behave was just as important as behaving itself. Sam didn't think that made any sense, but Cas wasn't going to budge on that one, so he accepted his spanking. Besides, it felt different than a punishment spanking. The remorse wasn't there, since he hadn't "earned" the spanking per se, but there was a sense of pride in accepting the spanking and also safety; he felt like it really would help him to remember to behave.

He knew one other thing too, as he was being spanked and already, since there were still many things he had to learn about Cas, but the apparent was that spanking Sam made Cas feel better too and Sam wanted any anxiousness Cas might feel over their separation (if it can be called that, one day isn't something to write home over) to be as small as possible, diminished if it could, though there was no chance of that. Cas would worry about Sam until they saw each other again; that warmed Sam's heart.

With the cheeks of his ass still lightly buzzing, he makes his way into the kitchen where Benny is still drinking his coffee and Dean, again shirtless (shirt tucked into the back pocket of his jeans), ball cap on backwards is making pancakes. "There he is," Dean says without turning. "This the walk of shame?"

Benny chuckles.

Sam blushes. It kind of is. He's wearing his clothes from last night, even if they have been washed and pressed by Cas's staff and Cas did fuck him. He doesn't care about that so much right now. Sam's waiting for Dean to turn around and see what's on his neck. Benny's seen it, he's eyeing it, but he's not saying anything, letting Dean get the shock of his life when he turns around.

Dean does, bringing the pan and spatula with him, flipping a pancake onto Benny's plate, then stops. "Sam? Wow you…" He turns around and heads back to the stove to hide.

"Dean?" Sam says. That's a scary reaction. Now he wishes Dean would say something asinine.

"Aw, Cher. C'mere," Benny says. He gets ups and tugs on Dean's arm (after he's put down the pancake pan) wrapping him in his strong arms. Is Dean, crying?"

"Dean?" Sam tries again.

Benny's sushing him and swaying him. "You're not going to lose your brother Dean."

"It's real now. He's going to leave us, Ben."

Oh. "Dean, don't be ridiculous," Sam says.

Dean tears himself out of Benny's arms and launches himself at Sam, wrapping arms around him. "Don't leave us, Sammy."

Sam hugs him laughing at his ridiculous brother. "I'm not leaving, Dean."

Dean reaches up to touch the collar. "Isn't that what this means?"

"No. He asked me to wear it, I said yes. We're not married yet."

"That's as good as—like a promise ring or something."

"It's not."

When his brother is amply consoled, Sam hands him over to Benny. "That's enough now, Dean," Benny says. Sam knows as well as Dean knows that, that's the voice a shade before a spanking. Benny doesn't like Dean getting this worked up; he's prone to brat behavior when he is. Serious brat behavior. Frogs in the bathtub behavior. Sam knows Dean doesn't mean it, he just obsesses over things.

"I'm happy for you Sam, I am, I'm just sad for me."

That earns him a swat from Benny. "I said enough, Dean and I mean enough."

"Yes, sir."

But Sam can tell Dean's still pouting. He's making sure to check his shampoo bottles. Sam already ate, but he pours himself a coffee and heads upstairs with it. He wants to process the night—oh fuck that, he just wants to daydream about sexy Cas with his strong, lean muscles, holding him tight in that possessive way that makes Sam feel snug. Cas's lips on his body and his intense blue eyes—he misses Cas already and in a physical way.

He pulls out his phone remembering the rule Cas left him with. "If you're not near me, I expect updates hourly, Samuel." Sam was able to reason with him that on a ranch, hourly updates were unrealistic, so Cas agreed to every three hours. "I will punish you if you disobey me, no exceptions."

Sam doesn't wait three hours. He writes him a message. _Just got home. Miss you already._

He waits and checks for the message he hopes he'll get sooner rather than later. He knows Cas is busy, which is why they can't see each other today. But maybe Cas has just one minute? His phone alerts him there's a message. _That's one._

One? One what? What did Sam do? Oh. He forgot the appellation. Dammit. _Sorry, sir._

_Better. I miss you too. I want one hour of meditation today. Think of me._

Meditation? Sam hasn't done that in his training yet, he has no idea what Cas means by it. _Meditation, sir?_

_Silly me, I must have forgot to show you._

Sam doubts that.

_Kneeling, on your front porch. Clothed or naked, your choice, but how much would it please me to know you were naked?_

Sam is both anxious and infuriated. How dare he ask this of Sam? Cas is supposed to be wooing him, not telling, no _ordering_ him to do humiliating things. It's not even a request, it's _you will do this Sam_ and Cas expects him to skip off and do it. And think of him? Sam will think of him all right, think of him going straight to Hell.

Sam calms himself down before his anger gets away from him. He doesn't have to "meditate". Sam's his own person and Cas can't make him do anything. He decides to tell him so. _Sir, with all due respect, sir I don't think I'll be kneeling anywhere, today._ With two 'sirs,' how can he go wrong?

_I don't like your disrespectful tone, that's three._

Three? _Three?_ What happened to two? The injustice! But knowing he's on thin ice, he doesn't say anything about it; he doesn't get the chance anyway, Cas sends another message. _You will obey me, or be punished. It's entirely your choice, boy._

Sam cringes. Cas is pulling out all the things that grate his nerves. Then Sam gets an idea. Cas isn't here. He can simply say he's done it. Cas will be none the wiser.

Sam types his response. _I'm sorry, sir. I will do as you've asked._ He's not doing it, never in a million years.

_See that you do._

**

The day creeps by. Sam works on his chores and tries not to think about the order Cas has given him. It's a stupid order anyway. But the higher the sun gets in the sky and the more he can feel the sweat leaking from under his collar, the more he thinks about what he's _supposed_ to be doing. _What the Hell you thinking, Sam?_ Supposed to be doing. He's supposed to be doing his chores, not worrying about Castiel.

If need be, he can just end this whole thing. Just the thought leaves a raw feeling in his gut, like someone carved it out with a scalpel. No. Breaking up with Cas is out. He's too far gone to ever break up with Cas. Sam will just have to reason with him: Sam shouldn't be assigned meditations on porches; he'll talk with Cas and they can negotiate.

Right. Sam would have a more profitable time negotiating with a brick wall.

Cas didn't specify a given time, only a duration. As the day wore on and got later, he realized he would have to do it at some point if he was going to do it at all. Was he really considering this? Who has he become? Or was this always him and Cas it just bringing it all out in him? "You okay, Sammy?" Dean asks after a particularly long bout of silence and Sam reaching up to fiddle with his collar like it's Cas himself for the millionth time.

"Yeah I'm, no I'm not fine. Does Benny ever ask you to do things you don't want to do?" Sam already knows the answer is yes, but he wants to hear Dean's take.

Dean laughs. "Yeah, Sammy. All the time. Most of the time. You've seen it yourself. It always ends up being good for me though and I'm always glad he's come in with his requests and rigid rules."

Compared to Cas, Sam doesn't think of Benny as rigid, or he might have before, but now he's learning a whole new concept to the meaning of rigid—Sam's not even allowed to touch his own cock unless it's for washing or peeing! But there's a warmth in the rigidity that comforts Sam, that he knows he'd miss if it were gone. Still, Sam can't help but probe. "What about something Benny asked you to do that you didn't want to do that he wouldn’t see you do and you could just say you did?"

Now Dean's really laughing. "Sammy Winchester, I didn't know you had it in you to be a brat." Dean's quite amused by this.

"I'm not a brat I just, I don't want to do it Dean."

Dean stops laughing, but he's still smiling huge. "Man, you're really lost on this guy, huh, Sammy?" Dean's said that a few times now. It's like Dean's having a hard time believing it.

Sam tightens his grip on the shovel he's holding.

"Okay, you are. I get it. I really get it, Sam. I'm gonna tell you something that," Dean looks around. "Look don't tell Ben, it'll ruin my rep, but yeah. There are lots of things he wants me to do I don't wanna do. Hell, there are lots of things I _want_ to do, he doesn't want me to do. And sometimes I brat-off. Like really brat-off, but I try to keep outright defiance to a minimum. I'm not perfect and disobedience bound to happen, but I at least try not to be too much of an ass, because we have an agreement. Saying you'll do something, or you won't do something and with the intent of not actually following through, is like pissing all over your agreement. It's plain hurtful Sammy. If you care about this guy like you say you do, well, you should really think about that."

This is something for Sam to think about.

"So I guess you gotta think about how much your commitment means…if you _can_ commit to what he's asking for, hell, if you want it. He's laying it out for you, Sammy, telling you _who_ he is. If it's not you, you gotta end it Sam. "

That thought, "ending it" creates panic in Sam. No, he, no. Just no. Sam already knows that Cas is his whole world; he makes something inside Sam feel content, excited and happy, all at once; he's not ending it with Cas. It's not like Sam doesn't usually end up liking, or at least liking-not-liking the things Cas gets him to do. Least he can do is try, right?

Fine. Dean's right; Cas is letting him know what he wants, so he's resigned to at least trying, but does he really have to do it naked? "Dean? What about things that aren't required, but would, you know, make him really happy?"

Dean's eyes are wistful. "I suppose that's different. It's not the "fuck you" like it would be if you just didn't do it and at least with Benny, he never makes me feel bad for not doing something inessential, but the look on his face when I do…it's never not been worth any price." Dean pats him on the back. "Helpful?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Dean."

It's easier for Sam to finish his chores after their talk, but now he's fighting another thing. He doesn't want to do it. No one's holding a gun to his head. He _could_ tell Cas to fuck off, but Dean's right, how asshole would that be? Especially when he cares about Cas. Sam has made a commitment, perhaps not _the_ commitment, but he's agreed to _try_ to throw himself into his training; not to mention, so far he's enjoyed every minute of pleasing Cas, even the hard bits.

When he's finished his chores, he excuses himself and pulls out the yoga mat he used to use for his yoga practice and sets it up on the porch. No one is around now, but anyone could come by at anytime. The part he's decided: He's doing this. Undecided: Naked, or clothed? Could he go half-way and just wear his jeans. Would Cas be just as pleased with that? He's pretty sure he knows the answer. Cas won't be displeased, but he won't be as pleased as he could be. As Sam has the power to make him be from such a simple sacrifice. How wonderful would it feel to impress Cas?

He sighs. Okay. _Might as well be all in._ He strips off his clothing, piling it neatly on the porch swing. Even with the warmth of the evening, a chill goes through him, excited and nervous; apprehensive. He sets his stopwatch and sinks to his knees.

He remembers Cas being disappointed in his form, but he has yet to tell Sam how he'd like his form to be. For now, Sam kneels as he's been taught by other Doms in the sex houses he's visited. Toes flat (toe nails touching the ground), ass sunk into his calves, hands on his thighs, his caged cock is fully on display, as well as the cuffs. Everyone can see how owned he is and feels. Like it or not, Sam became Cas's the moment Cas set eyes on him.

His beautiful white collar completes the feeling and he takes a moment to let the sensation of it circling his neck, seep Cas's ownership of him into his body. It's moments like these, when he's by himself, that he doesn't have to fight it; how much he wants to be owned. Specifically by Cas.

What he's most proud of, are the good boy markings he's earned. Purple and cherry-red hickies—everywhere (Cas added to his before dinner collection last night), along with several bite marks. Just because they were good boy markings, it doesn't mean they were easy to aquire. Many of them hurt to receive.

He boosts his chest taller proud of himself for what he's already endured and closes his eyes.

One hour, he can do this. He takes a deep breath in then out, remembering what he learned when he took a series of yoga classes a few years back. It's hard. Sam's consumed with thoughts. What if someone see him? What will they think of him? What does he think of himself? He's naked on a porch in some hardware and love bites. The indignity of the act is there, tingling all over him. He's not, turned on exactly, but he feels something.

He does begin to think about Cas. What would Cas do? What would Cas say? Sam knows. His eyes would shine with pride. Sam's doing this _for_ him. Is this what Sam would chose to do with this time if Cas hadn't asked him to? No. Is it fun? No. It's not terrible though, just boring and a little embarrassing, but knowing he's doing something for Cas, giving up something (time) for Cas, makes Sam feel good.

His eyes are closed, but he hears footsteps on the porch then Dean whispering in his ear. "Sorry about earlier. I'm proud of you Sammy."

Earlier? Oh yeah, his mini-tantrum, before all the sage advice. Sometimes, Dean's so wise, you wouldn’t think it was Dean, but other times, he's just a huge brat. This time around, his bratness was worry over losing Sam, so it's easier for Sam to forgive him (though it's pretty easy to forgive Dean in general). Sam makes it almost to the end of his mandatory one hour of meditation when he hears the sound of tires rolling into the driveway. He'd almost gotten out of anyone seeing him (who wasn't Dean or Benny) but no such luck. He doesn't want to open his eyes, but he does, a bit panicked; it's hard to keep where he is on the porch, but he manages.

Pulling into the Ranch's long driveway, is the long limousine-truck Sam knows belongs to the royal house. An entourage of men pour out first (more than usual Sam notices) taking a defensive stance in front of the rear door. Sam shivers with excitement when he sees one of Cas's polished, black leather shoes step out of the vehicle and can't help the flush when he realizes they're all fully clothed except him and witnessing him do something very private. Any apprehension he might have had is erased, when Cas comes into full view.

But it lights anew when he sees the look on Cas's face: Rage. He's angry. Why? Sam hasn't a clue, so he waits in position for his Sir to approach him and he does, circling him like a wild animal. "Is there any reason, Samuel, why you have not text me at our designated time, nor answered any of my texts or phone calls for the past hour?"

Sam's whole body goes cold. He forgot. Fuck. He forgot. He spent the hours between his last communications with Cas stressing over doing his assigned meditation and he fucking forgot to call, or text. Sam can't believe how awful this feels. It's not fear, Sam knows fear, this is different. He knows Cas is angry with him and he doesn’t like it. He'll do whatever he needs to, so Cas will be un-angry with him. He can't look at Cas, so he looks as Cas's shiny shoes instead. "Sir, I'm sorry, sir. I forgot. I've been meditating—like you asked—for the past hour."

Cas reaches down to grasp Sam's chin and tilt it, so Sam's looking into his icy eyes. "I was so worried. I came straight here. This is unacceptable, Samuel."

Sam's eyes fill with tears until they spill over. He knows he shouldn't (not because Cas said so, just a hunch) but he wraps his arms around Cas's legs and cries into his pants. He doesn't know what's come over him, but he cries for some time and there are fingers in his hair, Cas's fingers; soothing him. Cas sighs. "Enough of that now, beautiful boy. You will be punished for this, but that's all."

Sam can't be punished soon enough. "Would you like me over your lap, sir? Over the balcony, maybe?"

"I appreciate your eagerness to atone for your insubordination, but now is not the time for a spanking. You can be sure I will correct you."

Sam looks up to him, tears streaming down his face, Cas looks down at him tenderly as he orders, "Dario, my crop, please." Cas is still focused on Sam.

When Dario brings Cas his "crop," Sam notices, it's unlike any other crop he's seen before. It looks like it may have been custom made; knowing what he knows of Cas, it probably was. Like the "angel-anal-plug," this is an angel-designed crop. Instead of black, it's silver leather and seems to shimmer, looking like it was made out of unicorn horn, or something (if unicorns existed). Sam can't take his eyes off it, even if he's meant to be looking at his Sir.

Before Cas takes the crop from Dario, he steps out of Sam's grasp and removes his jacket, slinging it over Dario's free arm. Cas takes a moment to roll up his sleeves and Sam knows he's in for something, but Cas just said he's not going to punish him now, so what?

Cas takes the fancy looking crop. "How much longer did you have for your meditation?"

Sam leans an eye toward his stopwatch. "I would have just finished now, sir."

He nods. "Since I am here, you will be trained. Sit up tall."

Sam does as he notes that his training is about to take place with an audience. Yeah, they're a stone audience (are the men still breathing?) but an audience none-the-less. Cas's shoes click around him as he holds the mystical looking crop in both hands, behind his back. "I'm sure you've encountered a riding crop, or two in your time. If not on the Ranch then at any sex house you may have visited, as you know, they don't hurt, much. Just a sting."

Sam's anxiousness ratchets up a notch.

"This one hurts, I assure you. It will be used to train you. The session today will be short. Just enough to teach you proper form for your daily meditation."

"Daily, sir?" Sam has to do this every fucking day?

"Of course daily. However do you expect to perform for me, if you don't practice daily?"

Sam doesn't have an answer, but he does have a complaint. "But it was so boring, sir."

"Don’t you think you should be on your best behavior considering how much trouble you're in?"

Sam shuts up and looks to the floor.

"It's entirely up to you how many reminders you receive from my special crop. You'll be reminded each time you break position or fail to focus. You may also ask for reminders if you feel you need them."

"Why would anyone ask for reminders, sir?"

"This may come as a shock to you, Samuel, but many people actually want to be my pet, are honored to find themselves in the position you are now, accepting pain and discomfort for me. They ask for the reminders, so that they may serve me better." Cas isn't mean, but he's cool. Right. Hot water. Sam's in it and he's not exactly redeeming himself. "We'll start with fifteen minutes."

It takes every ounce of his control not to groan. Sam's muscles are already sore from all the "meditating" he's already done. Truth be told, he was looking forward to finally getting up, but with the way Cas's looking at him, Sam keeps his mouth shut. Now he knows how Dean feels. Dean's prone to brat behavior, but there's a point where Benny reins him in. Most of the time, it's just a look. A look that makes Dean straighten up and watch his tone. Sure, Benny's given Sam warnings of his own and has even spanked him (Benny's older than Sam by over a decade and's like a much older brother to him) but Sam always knew that no matter how Benny looked at Sam, it was never the same feeling as the one he could see on Dean's face in those moments.

Sam can relate now, he's sure of it. He straightens up wanting to redeem himself.

"During your daily meditations and each time I ask you to kneel for me, I want you to kneel in this way." Sam's feet get a whack from the fucking unicorn crop. Cas is right, it does hurt. It's not the worst thing, but it leaves a heavier sting than a regular crop and he can feel the extra power funneling through it. He has to grit his teeth. "Each toe pad touches the ground and I want them spread as far as you can—I understand it's not easy," he says with a sadistic smirk.

Sam does so, best he can. Spreading one's toes, _is_ difficult and tiring. He can feel the muscles of his abs firing with the effort.

Next, Cas attacks his back—okay not attacks, that's an exaggeration, but he gets a whack square between his shoulder blades and in each place Cas corrects. "I want your back arched here," whack "and chest pulled up, out proud, not sunken; bad posture" whack "hands clasped at the small of your back; that's more reverential in my opinion, which is the one that matters," whack "ass is perched upon your heels, not sinking into your claves; that looks lazy," whack "abs pulled in tight."

Sam is breathing like he's been doing sprint intervals; that crop is not nice and the position is almost impossible to hold. He can feel every place Cas has whacked him, the tears in his eyes spring anew and it felt like a workout, as he hurried to take the instructed position, while holding the previously instructed piece and deal with the pain all at once; he can see why Cas calls it training.

"And finally," Cas uses the crop to maneuver Sam's chin. "I want your neck long and eyes always on me unless instructed otherwise. When you meditate alone, your head will be slightly bowed."

"Yes, sir." Sam works to slow his breathing, his muscles aching as he checks in to see that his body is still following Cas's instruction; he doesn't want to earn any more whacks with that nasty thing.

"Breathe, Samuel."

Sam does as he did at the beginning of his meditation, inhaling deep through his nostrils and exhaling slow and long out pursed lips.

"What do you say?"

"Th-thank you, sir. For teaching me."

"Good boy. You will learn discipline, Samuel."

Right now, Sam's just glad he seems to be softening some. If Sam were to describe it, he'd say it's like an ice sculpture melting, slowly getting that watery sheen, but still plenty of chilled ice beneath.

"I am proud of you for completing your sixty minutes and I'm thrilled that you decided on naked," Cas says.

Just when Sam thought he was going to collapse from the exhaustion of it all, those words bolster him and give him a second wind. Can praise from this man really feel this good? It does, like sunshine and rainbows and _ow!_ Fuck. Cas taps his back for allowing it to curl over. "What do you say?"

 _Fucking anal, bastard._ "Thank you, sir."

Fifteen minutes ends up being a long time. Sam earns several more whacks from Cas's special crop, his eyes are leaking, cheeks wet when it's finally over. He's very glad it's over. "All right, you may relax. You did well beautiful boy. I'm proud to call you mine."

Sam collapses dramatically, to his yoga mat. He's silently beaming over the praise. More praise. Sam will die happy now.

Cas hands the evil crop back to Dario. "Come on, up. Sit with me."

Sam does as told, dragging himself up off the mat and over to where Cas is sitting on the porch swing, Sam settles himself into Cas. Cas rocks, kisses his crown and draws circles on his bare skin (huh, he forgot he was naked), "I don't like how that felt. I was worried, sick. I had half my men out searching, which reminds me." He snaps his fingers at Dario, who seems to know what to do. Cas's staff seem to be able to read his mind. "Now there's the matter of your punishment. Two hours tomorrow."

Sam knows what he means, he's not pleased. "Two? You're a sadistic—"

"Ah, ah, ah. I can always make it three my love."

Sam shuts up.

"No pouting. I'm going easy on you. And you are getting a sound spanking in front of the men who wasted their time looking for you when you were here all along, not doing as you were told."

Sam supposes that's fair. He's not looking forward to it, but it's fair. "I did some of what I was told, sir."

"Some yes," he agrees.

Sam snuggles further into Cas. He can't be too sorry, not if his behavior resulted in seeing Cas when he wasn't supposed to. "You had important things to do. Did I ruin anything major, sir?"

"Nothing major, no, but this did delay a meeting, which I will now have to attend tomorrow. No use in worrying about it now though. Sentencing has been decided and I'm sure once it's been doled out, you'll remember to mind me. I have every faith in you."

"In me, or your ability to hand out punishments, sir?"

Sam can feel Cas's smile radiate from above him. "Both. Now, I meant to tell you how alluring you look with that collar around your neck. You really are something."

Sam notices something he hadn't picked up on before. Cas isn't just calm from the orchestra of emotions that were drumming through him when he arrived; he's recovered. Whatever they just went through soothed something inside Cas. Sam notes it for later. "Thank you, sir. I got it from someone special."

"Am I special to you?"

"There aren't too many people I let humiliate me this thoroughly in public, Cas."

"I'd better be the only one," his voice thunders enough to make Sam tremble a little and latch on a little tighter.

"You're the only one, sir."

"But speaking along those lines, I have to ask you something you may not like—actually not like, not the kind you pretend not to not like."

"What is it Cas?" Sam shivers a bit. The evening is setting in and he's still naked.

"Dario," Cas snaps. Dario brings Cas's long jacket over to Sam and drapes it over him as he simultaneously pulls him closer. "There will be a ball in a few weeks, it's not something you're near ready for, nor will you be by the time it takes place."

"I can be ready." Sam is insulted. He wants to go to the ball.

"I assure you, you're not, unless you're ready to wear the nice leash I'm having made for you?"

"Leash? Cas!"

Cas laughs. "See? Not ready, but that's the point, I need someone who is, I need decorations. Long story, lots of politics, but it's for my younger brother Gadreel. There are several royal angel families coming. I need to be properly represented."

This conversation just got serious. Sam pushes up so he can see Cas's face, he uses the coat for protection. "Does that look on your face mean you're opposed?" Cas asks.

"Do I have a choice? You just said you need 'representation,' Cas."

Cas sighs. "I do, but if you're really against it, I won't do it."

Wow. Cas really is asking. "Would it look really bad, if you had no one?"

Cas winces. "Yeah. That and, I'd have to defy my father, which won't put either of us in his good books."

Once again, Cas is the one without the choice; he's the rock in the hard place, obey his father and upset Sam, appease Sam and piss off his father. And he's choosing Sam.

"What kind of decorations are we talking?"

"Two slaves. I can pick who I want, so they can be women if you'd prefer. Gabriel has also offered Nathan."

"Where would you find two women willing to do that in time for the ball?"

Cas blushes. "This might be hard to understand given your own personal struggles, but Sam, there are many out there who embrace this side of themselves. It won't be a problem. I have several volunteers already."

Sam is… he doesn't know. That makes him feel inadequate. He knows that wasn't Cas's intent, but it does all the same. "M-May I still attend, sir?"

"I'd like that very much, but you'd have to wear particular attire."

"Any worse than the other night?"

"No, not by much."

"In that case, it's fine, Cas."

"Really?" Cas looks relieved.

"Really. We're a team, Cas. If you're a rock and a hard place with your father, then so am I. But no sex with them, right?"

Cas's smile is worth every bit of pain this will cause Sam. He doesn't want to see Cas with other, willing, slaves, but Cas is right, Sam's not ready. "No. No sex. That's just for you, unless you want us to add others. But we can discuss that another time. It's a few weeks 'till the ball you know, plenty of time to earn yourself an orgasm."

Sam knows that's a pipe dream. "How about knocking an hour off my punishment, sir?"

Cas frowns at him. "I don't think so. That punishment was earned, but it's good to know how much you love meditation. You'd better be an extra good boy from now on."

Note to self, don't let the sadist in on what bothers you. Sam does groan this time. "Yes, sir."


	6. Wooing and Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly Mock reminder that what lies forward is for kink purposes only. This is fiction. This is not an instruction manual, or how to and it should not be read as such: It is for entertainment. And I really hope ALL the writers will feel as free to take such liberties when they are writing a made up story. It makes it funner!

Sam has been led to Cas's room and told that, "Prince Castiel will join him, soon as he can."

Sam thinks that's the weirdest thing of all of this: He's dating a prince and not just any prince, the Crown Prince, which means that Castiel could be King one day. Well, the chances of that are highly unlikely, since King Michael would have to die for that to happen and since angels don't die of natural causes, he would have to _be_ killed. Since that's next to impossible (like, unless there were a war or something) Cas, in all likelihood, will remain Crown Prince. But Sam can't help having schoolboy fantasies of marrying a king. What would that make him, another king? Consort? What would that be like?

Fruits, cheeses and refreshments have been left for him to help himself to. As Sam does just that, he finds a copy of _Charlotte's Web_ on a platter with a note.

 _Before you get angry and scold me again, this is not to replace that which your mother gave you, or to flaunt my riches, this is simply because I know how much you'll appreciate a First Edition copy—as you know it's not for reading, but for looking at. I thought that would be acceptable._ Sam can see the smirk Cas would have saying that. _And, it's part of my plan to woo you beautiful boy._

Sam is wooed. Of course nothing can replace the sentimental value, the copy from his mother has, but he'd be a fool not to appreciate a First Edition copy, which of course, is only for looking at—you don't read First Editions, you put them in a glass case and admire them. Cas is right, he needs a copy for reading and a copy to admire. Much as Sam loves books, he doesn't have many, or at least not as many as he'd like to have. He's got his bookshelf at home, of ones he's read and still reads over and over, but there hasn't been extra money around for buying things like books often, or in a while; his evil boss doesn't even give him a discount on books. He does receive them as gifts now and then. Last year, Dean and Benny scraped some money together to buy him the copy of Huck Finn he'd wanted to add to his meager collection. So yeah, this is pretty impressive especially because it's something dear to Sam. He feels a bit like he did the day he got the book from his mama; a soaring, happy feeling.

Taking the book with him, _he can look at it carefully_ he covets it under his arm and makes himself a plate of food. He heads over to the bed and places the special book on the night stand, far from harm of any accidental food bits. He also pulls the copy of _Excalibur_ out of his jeans and places it beside. Instead of reading, he chews his lip and snacks on cheese as he reflects on his day. It's been interesting.

Cas warned him before he left the Ranch that Sam should complete his meditation in the morning. "I want both hours, completed together, no breaks," to which Sam had wanted to complain some more. One hour was hard and without the stringent posture Cas recently dictated, two with it sounded impossible.

Sam got up early to complete his meditation, which this time, was part punishment and found himself glad that Cas wouldn't be standing over him with that asshole crop for when he broke position, which he imagined would happen a lot. But while it's punishment, Sam knows it's also for training, so naturally, he wanted to get it right for Cas—like an A plus on his report card, so when he sunk into his meditation, he made sure to focus on each piece of the formation as per Cas's request. Each toe pad touching, knees spread to display his caged cock, which is there for Cas's pleasure or not, knees apart, back arched, chest out, neck long, head slightly bowed, arms clasped behind his back.

It was no surprise that trying to hold the posture for an hour fatigued Sam like never before—it was its own kind of torture, no flogger necessary (in fact, a flogger would have been welcomed relief). Sam was cursing Cas, in his head and out loud (he could hear Dean snickering at this cursing through the open kitchen window). Try as Sam might, he couldn't seem to forget that he was kneeling on a porch, naked, his muscles and joints screaming at him, he really wanted to call it quits, especially when he could smell bacon and coffee wafting out from the side of the house, but fuck, he still had another hour to go.

He almost did quit. It was thinking about having to tell Cas that he'd failed to complete his punishment that pushed him through. He couldn't (no matter how much he wanted to) hold the position perfectly, or even as prettily as Cas expected, but he did reach two hours, collapsing for a minute at the end, taking a Shavasana, or 'Corpse Pose' like he used to in yoga to let the posture seep into him and allow his fatigued muscles to sag relief. At that point, his body felt really good, like after a killer workout; it was a nice, floaty kind of exhaustion and he was smiling, proud at having done it. Though he was grateful again to be on his own and not have Cas over him while he practiced—he would have many markings added to those he already had. Ones that would remind him of his imperfections.

With that out of the way, he had the rest of the day to do what he needed, like the accounting for the ranch, but all the while he daydreamed. What would Cas do to him tonight? was the top thought; Sam came up with many of his own debasing ideas, which meant that Cas's would be at least a thousand times more so. He also thought about the conversation they had about the ball.

Not that he would mind them playing with others now and again, but this thing, with the ball feels different than that would be. Being Cas's 'decoration' seems to fall under his role as Cas's special person. It's something _he_ wants to provide for his Sir. That he can't, makes him feel not only inadequate, but disappointed in himself. Cas seems to know just what to provide him with to make him feel amazing and much as he knows Cas is doing those things to him because Cas enjoys them, the enjoyment Sam feels he gets is more somehow; he's grateful, so grateful to Cas for it. He's finding there's a particular satisfaction in doing things for Cas.

This isn't a completely new idea for him, even if he tends to deny that it isn't. When he went to all those Sex Houses, Sam enjoyed pleasing a Sir, so he had an inkling about his nature, the one he chose not to think about and wished would go away, but with Cas, it's on a whole other level. Being with Cas makes him not want to deny his nature anymore, but instead embrace it. Not only does Cas push him in ways he never thought imaginable, the rewards are greater and the craving to please expands, heightens and surges. Is this what Cas meant when he said _pleasing Cas would be Sam's reward?_ Is this what Cas meant when he said he wants someone who likes the challenge of where Cas would take them?

Sam's pretty sure the answer is yes and this excites him. Maybe this _is_ him. It feels like Cas is unwrapping the layers in Sam that were always there, that he himself couldn't even fathom unwrapping, or begin to think how he could do it. It's hard and uncomfortable and so far, Sam feels he just gets settled then is thrown off kilter again. It's a wild amusement park ride, but Sam hopes it always stays this way.

He wants to be the one at Cas's side, on Cas's leash at the ball, not some beautiful hussies who have _lined-up_ for the chance. Fuck that. Not even Nathan, who bless him, Sam adores and is already grateful for, he thinks they'll be good friends, but Nathan shouldn't be the one to represent Cas at the ball. Sam wants to. Fine. It's decided. He's going to work hard; he'll be the one on Cas's leash at the ball. Buuut…just in case he really can't, he's not going to say anything to Cas yet.

Speaking of, Cas is suddenly there, watching him from the doorframe, leaned up against it, arms crossed, his sensational smirk, long jacket hanging down, but not so far Sam can't see the leather shoes, one pressed against the doorframe, holding some of his weight. "I could watch you thinking forever Samuel," Cas says gliding into the room like he's on ice. "But tell me, what has you thinking so that your face wrinkles with such anguish? Come." Cas opens his arms for him.

Sam runs to them, his large form sinking into Cas. "I just, I want to please you, sir."

"But you do, my love. You are the most pleasing thing in existence. Never doubt that."

"There are things I can't provide for you."

"You will. Even if you don't, we can work around it somehow."

"Like with two, large breasted sluts in my place?"

Sam can feel Cas's bright smile. "Possessive today, aren't we?"

"You're mine, Cas."

Cas smacks his ass for the 'Cas.' "I am yours. Have you changed your mind?"

Sam shakes his head into Cas's chest. "Not yet, sir."

"Then no more pouting. Instead, tell me about how well your meditation went today." Cas pulls him over to the bed, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Sam bites his lip. How does he tell Cas?

"You did complete your meditation today I hope, Samuel. Though I can't say I wouldn't also enjoy punishing you if you didn’t."

"I did, sir," Sam says quickly.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know that it went, _well._ "

"Tell me more, beautiful boy, but lay here with me, pants and socks off." Sam's beginning to think Cas might have a foot fetish—he seems to like Sam's bare feet anyway.

Sam removes his pants and socks with only a mild amount of apprehension. Cas has already seen him naked and in compromising positions, but Sam knows Cas has something equal parts exciting and sadistic planned. With only his t-shirt, flannel and boxers on, he lays with Cas.

Sam is right. Cas begins fondling him, over his boxers which is maddening after being aroused all day _and_ knowing no orgasm is forthcoming. "You were saying?" Cas says.

"Um, well I think I did pretty well for the first hour, but the second hour was hard. I don't think I did well at all, sir. I almost stopped several times." Sam can't believe he's admitting to this. _Why?_ He could have just said he did it and that would have been the truth, he did complete the task. Why get perfectionist over it?

Cas is still fondling him. "I didn't imagine it would be easy. I'm a demanding son of a bitch; I know that. Practicing that posture and holding it with the endurance I expect, requires conditioning that will take time. That's why it makes an effective punishment, it's not pleasant and I doubt you'll be in a hurry to earn yourself more hours." Once again, Cas is pleased with Sam's suffering. And fuck, it makes Sam happy. Huh. They're both happy.

Sam expands. "It was difficult, sir. I did it though, for you."

"Yes you did and you were a good boy. Equally as much for making sure to contact me when you were supposed to."

It's interesting how Sam both bristles and preens when he hears 'Good Boy.'

"You're really not upset about my poor performance?" Sam asks and has to hitch a breath at the way Cas's hand caresses his balls.

"Not at all. I'm proud you fought through it—you'll get good conditioning that way. You're not supposed to be perfect at it, that's why it's called training, some call it their practice—always working on improving. Perfect is never, Samuel—though I would argue that you are perfect to me." Sam feels warm and snuggles into Cas further. "If the additional hour wasn't a punishment, I'd tell you, you were one step closer to earning a reward. As it stands, there are to be no rewards for completing punishments."

Sam groans. "You could bend the rules, just this once." Sam knows it as soon as he's said it. That's not Cas. Not at all.

Cas smiles so big from afar you'd think he's laughing. "You don't know me very well then my love. I don't like bending the rules; I like rules and punishing those who disobey them. I've bent enough of them for you. Not even a chance.

"Now then, we really should take care of this, so we can have some real fun," Cas says, squeezing Sam's cockcage. "You see? I'm willing to make things easier for you. Up." Cas smacks his ass again.

Sam groans, but obeys.

**

"I won't bind you now, perhaps later, while we sleep," Cas says. "Now, kneel."

Sam wants to cry. Kneel? Tears spring to his eyes. "Please, no more, sir. I can't."

Cas moves closer to stand over him. Sam is taller than Cas, but Cas is over him all the same. "Those are pretty tears my love," Cas says. "But you can. I know you can do this. It'll be hard, yes, but you can do it for me."

There's no gun to Sam's head. He knows he can tell Cas he really can't, stop this whole thing, but there's this sensation, an inclination toward wanting to do the thing Cas is asking, more than he doesn't want to do it. It's another instance of doesn't-like-like, this dichotomy of not wanting to do something, which makes him itch to do it all the more. Compounded with this feeling, is that Cas has ordered it, making the balance shift just a thread to the side that compels him to do it for Cas. He sinks to his knees on the solid, wood floor, which is more uncomfortable than his yoga mat.

Sam's muscles ache mildly. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearable. He's proud when he takes up the posture he knows Cas wants to see, showing off his collar and looking up to Cas like he's supposed to. Cas has his crop. Sam bites his lip.

"Beautiful. Stunning. What was I saying about perfect being never? This is perfect Samuel. You have done well and I am proud of you."

That makes it worth every ache. He can bear it. He can for Cas.

Whack! That has Sam out of breath already—just one whack from that bastard crop. "Sir. I thought you said I was perfect, sir?"

"And you are. But what kind of a challenge is it, if it's too easy for you?"

"I'd hardly call this easy, sir." Sam's got more tears, still pouring out his eyes, but he holds the posture.

Cas smiles, diabolically. "Let's see how far we can take you, shall we?" It's not a real question. Cas enjoys circling him and surprising him with solid whacks from his crop, sometimes even dragging it over the bare skin of Sam's torso like a caress, allowing Sam to catch his breath and fix his posture before Cas whacks him again.

Sam can feel Cas's delight. He works harder to impress him.

"Can you see why practice is important?" Cas asks, thankfully, fuck thankfully, throwing down the crop. "You wouldn’t be able to keep up, if you didn't already have some practice holding this posture. We'll work you up in little bits, when you're conditioned, just think how far we'll be able to take you?" _Oh God. What will Cas do to him then?_

Cas gestures for Sam to stand and Sam is happy to leave his knees. He doesn't think he was on them long, but even the short time holding the demanding position and being whacked, makes him feel like he's been swimming laps. Cas casually helps Sam remove his jeans and boxers, giving him a kiss that has Sam panting again. "Did you know these could be emptied with your cock cage still on?" Cas asks, squeezing Sam's balls enough, Sam as to hiss.

"No, sir." Sam did not.

Cas is delighted. "Fun. This is going to be fun. On the bed, on your belly, grab onto the headboard."

Sam does, excited and nervous about what's to come (even if he won't be).

Cas drags something light over his back and the cheeks of his ass, which gives Sam good tingles of anticipation. "Tell me Samuel, do you like pain?"

Now is not the time to hide the truth. Before meeting Cas and if anyone else had asked him that question, he might have denied liking pain. Especially since Sam knows the kind of pain Cas it referring to. Sam's been spanked by Cas, the spanking had hurt—probably not as much as it could hurt and would in future—but spankings are different and in a way, separate from the kind of pain Cas is talking about now, which his why he's asking. "I do, sir," Sam says quietly.

"That's what I thought, though only time will tell if it's quite to the level I like to give pain." That insults Sam, for reasons Sam can't figure out. Is he not good enough for Cas? Maybe he'll have to consider training harder. "I can't wait to see this landscape decorated in deep, red welt marks that I have put there. I can't wait to hear you scream when I give them to you."

Cas's voice makes Sam's body quake, his heart rate speeds up with the thought of that—all in good ways. That's been a hard thing for Sam to ask for, all of it is, but Cas seems to know exactly what to give Sam without him asking and that's the best part for Sam. He hates the asking more than anything else and he's exhilarated knowing Cas knows what he needs, even when he doesn't.

"But not today, my love; however, I am going to treat you to some pain, to help you. And isn't it nice that you get to relax on a nice comfortable bed rather than holding any particular position?"

Sam gets it immediately; he should thank Cas for his mercy. "Thank you, Sir."

"Good boy."

Sam is still equal parts ruffled and soothed by Cas's 'good boys' but it's exactly the right amounts in both directions for Sam and he sighs unconsciously.

Sam hears the pop of a cap then Cas's fingers are spreading lube up and down his crack without mercy and Sam can't keep his hips still. Cas smacks his ass. "Be still."

"Yes, sir."

It's worse when Cas sinks his fingers inside. "You're lucky I've taken pity on you because this is the beginning of your training, I really am in the mood to see you suffer when your balls get heavier than they are now."

Sam doesn't need to be prompted this time. "Th-Thank you, sir."

Cas adds fingers as Sam opens, his legs spread wide, holding onto the headboard for dear life. He's enjoying the feeling, every bit of it. "Arch your back for me, Samuel. That's better, your ass should always be as on display as it can be for me—good boys arch their backs."

"Mmnh, yes sir." Sam is building. A bit like he would if he were going to orgasm. His balls feel heavy enough to him, even if Cas claims they can be heavier.

"You look so good like this, thank you my love."

Sam isn't sure what Cas is thanking him for, but it feels good to be thanked. It does not feel good when Cas takes his fingers away. "Cas!" Whack! "Sir!"

"Have patience. You will learn patience, Samuel."

Sam pouts to himself as he listens for what Cas might be doing.

"On your knees, beautiful boy. But I want you to keep holding the headboard, your arms out-stretched, sink into your shoulder blades, ass arched up."

Sam does as instructed, feeling like he's in some modified version of Adho Mukha Shvanvasana, downward-facing dog pose, in yoga, except on his kness. He's glad for all the yoga he did, since he can actually do some of the things Cas asks of him, maybe he'll take it up again.

Sam feels something at this entrance and recognizes it. It's a dildo made of soft silicone. "I'm surprised, sir, so regular."

"Hopefully I can continue to surprise you with what I do with something so, as you say, 'regular'."

And Cas does.

Cas pushes the dildo in and out, fucking him in a way that's ruthless and sadistically calculated, but also with love. Cas wants Sam to enjoy this as much as he is. And Sam is, too fucking much.

Then Cas adds his light flogger to the mix and Sam is gone. Cas simultaneously whacks Sam with the flogger, which has many soft leather tails as he pumps the dildo in and out. The soft tails sting on impact, but dissipate just before Cas's next, perfectly timed thwack, which makes the pain build nicely. With the toy stimulating his prostate, Sam is overcome with sensation. He feels the build of his orgasm. It climbs up and up and up, always just out of his reach, always there, but so far away, until finally, he does feel semen spilling from his still caged cock, without the explosion of an oragasm.

Sam now understands what it means to have relief versus release. Sure it could be argued that he did 'release' something out of his cock, that this _was_ release, but it doesn't _feel_ that way. It feels like when you're really excited to go to a party all week that ends up just being okay. He definitely feels _relieved,_ his nuts no longer feel heavy, but there was no to perhaps very, very little of the enjoyment that the release of a full-fledged orgasm brings.

He is able to bask in the euphoria left behind by the pain in his ass from long, long, repeated use of the flogger in just that way. Sam's had soft floggers used on him before and considering his pain threshold, which is higher than some, not as high as others, they did little more than sting with they way they had been wielded. But with the length of time it had been used on him, Cas made sure Sam would be feeling that flogging, well into the night.

Cas flips Sam over and straddles his body, finally beginning to undress himself as Sam watches and enjoys. "You took that well, beautiful boy, now let's see what you have left for me."

**

Cas did take Sam to new heights and Sam didn't know he could last that long or get that much enjoyment out of submission. "Can you find enjoyment in simply submitting for me, beautiful boy?" Cas had asked. "Giving your body to me. Pledging your obedience to me. Could that make you happy?" Sam is finding that maybe he could.

And even with no orgasm. That's right. None, nada, zip-a-dee-doo-da. Cas removed his cock cage (and once he did, Sam was surprised to find that he'd rather have it back on) and attached a ring to help him hold back his orgasm. Sure Cas had milked him, but that would only last so long with what Cas had planned. Cas told him that eventually, they would build his endurance, so that he could hold himself back, but for tonight, Cas would help him. Sam thanked him. Cas spent time edging him nearly to death, using the flogger in more places, making Sam's whole body buzz and marking him (adding his teeth to the mix), before he entered Sam's mouth and had Sam suck his gorgeous cock. He didn't get to swallow the semen, but Sam knew he'd work hard to earn that privilege.

After, Cas sat with Sam in a bath of Epsom salts and spent time holding him, washing him, praising him, feeding him fruit.

Sam can't remember when he felt this amazing. Cas has him on the bed now, re-cuffed and caged and has straddled him, fiddling above his head. "Arms over your head, love."

Sam obeys and Cas clips the cuffs together then attaches them to a short chain on the headboard, which Sam noticed throughout the evening, has its own set of d-rings. The same is done with his ankles; clipped together then attached to a small chain at the footboard. Sam is too exhausted to ask questions and he feels cozy with all the pillows Cas put under his head and shoulders and under his knees. Cas snuggles up to him and pulls the covers over them both.

**

Sam feels feathery kisses, worshipful kisses over him—his neck, his shoulder, his chest, his belly, when he comes to. _Cas. Ahhh. Cas-ti-el._

He tries to snuggle further into Cas, but he realizes; he's bound. Not only that, but he's had the best sleep he's had in years. His cock cage is on, which now gives him an odd sort of peace, though he still has the sensation of wanting it off, the discomfort of it enough to feel he's suffering for Sir. So he wiggles into the cushy pillows under him and enjoys Cas's kisses. Cas ruins it all by flicking his finger, using his grace to unbind his hands and feet. "I know you're awake beautiful boy. Time to get up, I have something to show you."

Sam is intrigued. He sits up, stretching his sore, well-used muscles.

"Here, put this on," Cas says handing him a robe. It's a stunning, short, red robe; silk. Sam thinks he'll look good in it, but he's confused. Cas wants to cover Sam up? But how will anyone see the markings he's earned? And he earned a lot last night. Sam is finding more and more he wants to show off what Cas gives him, rather than hide. He frowns.

"Trust me beautiful boy, you've had enough for now. I'm in charge of your training, remember?" Cas's voice is silky and deep.

"Yes, sir," Sam says, but it doesn't mean he's happy about it.

Cas catches onto his bad attitude. "That's one. Behave yourself, or you'll quickly find your way to a spanking and I believe you already have one coming to you today."

Noted. Cas takes Sam's training seriously and he's not willing to budge on it in anyway, not even for pouty humans. And, hadn't Cas forgotten about that other spanking by now? He was not looking forward to being spanked and in front of Cas's men.

"Put this on," Cas says again, since Sam still hasn't taken the robe from him. "Leave it open."

Sam does as instructed and when Cas approaches Sam, he recognizes the nipple clamps; little, alligator-mouthed horrors. "Did you think I'd leave you with nothing, Samuel?"

"Um, I'm good, sir. Really."

"But what fun would that be?"

Sam groans enough for Cas to understand his displeasure, which only heightens Cas's arousal and makes his chest available for Cas to attach them. The clamps have a chain. Once they are fixed (painfully) to each nipple (Cas savoring every yip from Sam) he takes the chain, that's just this side of too short and connects it to the front of Sam's white collar.

Sam can stand up tall and turn his torso some, but there's a limit and once he reaches it, the chain tugs on Sam's nipples; moving is going to be difficult. "Careful," Cas says, the sadistic enjoyment clear on his face as he does up Sam's robe. "Don’t want to rip off those pretty nipples, I may want to pierce them later."

Sam glares at him. _Asshole._

"Do you have the book I gave you somewhere, or did you throw it into the fire?"

"Throw a book in the fire?" Cas might as well have told him he's about to light a dog on fire.

Cas laughs. "Right, well you didn't mention it, so I thought you didn't like it. I know it's not like the one your mother gave you."

"Cas, I loved it. You were… distracting last night." Sam bites his lip. "Thank you."

Cas's eyes smile. "You're welcome and that's still two. I let far too many lack of appellations go."

"Whatever gets you to sleep at night, sir," Sam teases.

"Three. You know I don't actually sleep much though?"

Sam remembers reading something about that. "Yes, sir, but not all the details."

"Yet more to teach you about me. For now, come."

**

Cas leads Sam to a set of mahogany doors and a question he's been meaning to ask pops out. "You don't seem to fly much either, sir. What's up with that?" Cas could have just flown them here, he could have flown them many places by now.

"Father's policy, out of respect for humans. They usually find it…disorienting. We are permitted to fly at times, but are punished if Father feels we have not been discreet, or I guess, rude, or that it was unnecessary. Same goes for our grace, but it's understood we'll likely use a fair amount with our slaves and special people. They get used to it. I'm used to not flying much now, so I don't think to do it, I guess."

Cas's father sure has some interesting rules and regulations. Huh. "I'd love to fly somewhere with you Cas, if it could be, permitted."

"Five." This time Cas scowls. He's in a generous mood, but Sam is toeing close to the line. He can feel it. "I will arrange something, if you're a good boy."

"Yes, sir."

Cas smiles and uses some of his grace to open the doors wide—now he's just showing off. Inside is a library. It's huge. Bigger than five of the bookstores he works at put together, maybe even bigger than seven. It's tall too, taller than ten Sams, a spiraled staircase leading up to another floor.

"Whoa, whoa. Just whoa!" Sam doesn't know where to look first. He also didn't know that a library could give him a hard-on, but it is, or at least his cock is trying to get hard at the sight within his cock cage. Books, books everywhere!

Cas leads him to an empty spot. "May I?" Cas says reaching for the book Sam's got clutched to his person.

Sam hands the book over, but hesitantly. Cas fits it in the empty slot. "This is where it belongs."

"I don't get to keep it, sir?" Sam might cry. Sam was looking forward to slotting it into his meager, bookshelf at home, waking up, staring at it and thinking of Cas.

"Of course you get to keep it. You get to keep this whole thing. It's yours—your library. Take as many books back and forth as you like. I knew I should have had the sign put above the door, but Gabriel said it was too much."

Sam barely knows what to say. "For me? But, how?"

"I told Father I am courting you. While he finds our methods unusual, he seemed to like the idea. When I asked him if I could give this to you, he gave his permission. He even allowed a crew of angels to come in here and refurbish everything as per my instructions. Come see upstairs. I had a loft installed with a bay window for you, but you can always take the books outside, whatever you want they're yours."

Sam can't believe this is all for him. Cas takes him for the tour, the whole time a bit torturous since Sam can't turn his torso all the way, or move too quickly, but he's too thrilled to care. As they move, Sam's grabbing up books to stack in his arms, unable to decide what to read, or reread first.

"So, does this woo you, Samuel?"

"Woo me? Sir, this is the best thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you. I love it." He'd hug Cas if not for all the books. And on that note…

"Just where do you think you're going?" Cas asks, unimpressed when Sam begins back up the stairs to _his_ book loft and makes himself at home on the cushy bay window that has tons of pillows for him to lean against.

"Hush, Sir. This is the reading area."

He can feel the fire in Cas's stare for that one. "You my boy, already have one spanking coming to you today, I'd love nothing more than to make it two; however, feel lucky I'm more pleased you like your gift so much."

"Yes, sir," Sam says, but he's already off on an adventure.

**

In Cas's defense, he did give Sam two hours of reading time, it's just that for Sam, no amount of time could be enough; he's always _just_ at that really good part. "I see my gift is going to be my undoing." He shakes his head and holds out a hand. "Time to put down the book, Samuel."

Cas had already interrupted him to remove the nipple clamps, which were a bitch to come off, but Cas had enjoyed himself and allowed Sam to keep reading. Sam thinks about whining, but Cas looks irritated, so he closes his book and heads down the stairs to Cas, who's eyeing him like he's puzzle he's trying to solve. "So you can be willful?" Cas says, Sam's not sure it's a question.

"I've already proven disobedient, sir," Sam says shyly.

"Disobedient and willful aren't always the same thing. I like it. Not that my liking of it will save your behind a good tanning for it, but I like it."

That makes Sam smile. Sam's starting to expect no less.

"It's time for your punishment, I'm afraid."

"Don't even pretend you're not excited, sir."

"Guilty," Cas says. "I can't wait to show off how beautifully you accept punishment Samuel, everyone will be jealous."

"Oh really? Everyone?" Sam takes a step closer.

Now Cas is shy. "I may have invited one of my brothers… and my father."

Cas is fucking adorable, which is why Sam doesn't complain. Much. "The first time I meet your father, is while I'm being punished, sir?"

Cas reaches to undo the tie of Sam's robe. "Yes and it's going to be perfect. He's going to be so impressed, you'll take your punishment admirably; he'll fall in love with you too." When Cas has Sam's robe open, he reaches into his pocket for the tiny key to Sam's cock cage. Sam's eyes are glued to the key. "Ah, ah, ah, eyes on me, my love."

Sam looks into the icy-blues, that manage to be warm, even though they're discussing his punishment. Sam feels Cas's fingers grab his locked up cock and expertly sink the key. "You should know, the more time you spend in here, the more time I have to plan and re-plan punishments."

Sam is less worried about his impending punishment and more worried about why Cas is removing his cock cage. He already knows it doesn't mean something good. His cock springs free and Cas pockets both the key and the cage. He trails a hand over Sam's cock, bringing it to full erection. "Originally, I was going to bend you over one of my fancy spanking benches and use one of my special paddles to spank you until your bottom was a pretty shade of red."

Fuck. That gives Sam a strange kind of shiver. It's not sexual exactly, but it's still a form of arousal. "Y-you're not going to do that anymore, sir?"

"Disappointed?" Cas smiles showing all his pretty teeth. Sam might be a little disappointed. "I've got something better planned, something that will make you look prettier." Cas leads him forward by his collar and kisses his lips. "It's why we need to talk. I've been going easy on you, yes I have," Cas insists when Sam looks at him unbelievably. "But you're ready to take your training up a notch."

This excites Sam. It works well with his 'secret' plan to be ready for the ball and kick the pretty hussies in the teeth.

"I'll be watching you closely, this is a punishment, it's meant to hurt, 'cause discomfort, but I don't want you to feel completely trapped. So you have two options. One, you may ask for a minute… all the minutes you need, but the punishment will be completed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Two, sometimes, no really doesn't mean no. If ever it really is too much, perhaps we've reached something you really can't do, say my name, my full name, _Castiel_ and I'll stop so we can talk about it; figure it out. Got it?"

"Got it, sir."

"If I feel you're abusing either of these, I will know and I will not be pleased. They're only if you _really_ need them. Not simply because of your pride, or because you don't like it—I promise you, I will be getting you to do things that will test both of those limits. You understand that this a 'total power exchange' relationship, yes?"

"I do, sir." Sam wouldn't have it any other way, even if Cas does challenge him more than any other Dom he's been with, _because_ Cas challenges him more.

"That’s right and I'm your trainer. I decide what's best for your training, not you. When you're training at the gym, doing sets in reps of ten, on which rep do you gain the most conditioning?"

Sam smiles, he knows the answer to this. "The eleventh, sir."

Cas pets his hair and kisses his forehead. "That's right. I want to take you beyond your limits Samuel, guide you so you'll grow in your submission. It won't be easy, you won't like some of it, but I promise, it will be the most rewarding thing you will ever do."

Sam believes him.

"Come beautiful boy," Cas says pushing Sam's robe off his shoulders. "Everyone's waiting for you."

**

Everyone was waiting for him. They are gathered in the center of the grand entryway where spectators can view from the balconies; this includes any of the house staff as well. The only staff who are fully dressed, are the ones Sam knows to be Cas's 'men' the ones out looking for him and the ones he's paying this price for. Also in attendance, are Cas's brother Gabriel, Nathan (of course) and King Michael.

Sam doesn't know why he expected Arthurian get up, like, maybe a long flowing robe, or something. Perhaps the Angel royalty once wore that kind of thing, but instead, King Michael's wearing a smart blazer over a pale blue button up shirt (it does look expensive) and crisp black slacks. He does have a crown a top his head, which is rather elaborate, but that's the only thing distinguishing him from Cas or Gabriel; he looks too young to be their father.

They don't address the angels, who watching from the balcony, but instead the men. Sam's heart is beating, his skin buzzes; he keeps to Cas. Everything is very formal, rehearsed and Sam gathers this isn't the first time they've gathered here. "Before you accept your punishment, is there anything you'd like to say to Jeffery, Hans, Eric, Phillip and Trevor?"

"I would, sir." He takes a deep breath, remembering Cas's dad is here. "I'm sorry you had to spend your time looking for me, thinking something bad happened, when it was merely forgetfulness…" That wasn't all. He might as well come all the way clean. "…disobedience. I was distracted, thinking about how not to do the task I was assigned by Sir." He looks to Cas, thinking he's going to be angry, but instead Cas is awash with pride, he gets the good boy smile. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm ready to be corrected."

"Very well, come here please."

Sam moves over to Cas and Cas binds his cuffs together, behind his back, so that his arms are straight. He adds a strap around Sam's biceps, provided for him on a pillow, carried by a servant. "Kneel."

Sam does so as gracefully as he can, which is not that graceful at all (he wonders if Nathan will give him tips) and kneels on the hard marble taking his position. "Spread your thighs, my love. Show us all your gorgeous cock."

Said gorgeous cock is having the time of his life, rock hard and leaking, proud to be on display. Sam is aware of everyone's eyes on him. Like Cas said, it's uncomfortable, embarrassing, but not unbearable. Sam can handle this, but he's not keen to earn this kind of punishment again.

Cas is presented with another pillow, on it is a thin tapered rod; thinnest at the top, getting thicker toward the end. Sam hasn't seen anything like it, so he guesses it's another angel fun toy. "I'm going to punish your thighs," Cas say, gleeful. "I'm sure you're aware of what's between your thighs?"

His arrogant looking cock. It's so fucking happy to be out and about, wait 'till it gets the memo of what's happening. Fuck. Actually, knowing his cock, it might not be disappointed. "I am, sir."

"You'll be pleased to know that I have very good aim. Precise aim. But if you move, your poor cock could get caught in the crossfire. Hold position; don't move."

"Yes, sir."

"And don't come."

Ugggh. Sam can already feel the building. "Yes, sir." Now Sam knows why Cas removed his cage. Torture. Why else? He is challenging Sam in many ways, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, Sam is flattered. It means Cas thinks he can handle this. He won't let him down. "Ready?"

"I'm ready, sir."

Without delay, Cas lays a decent stripe on the top of Sam's thigh and holy, fucking, shit! It hurts. Tears spring to Sam's eyes and he can't hold position, he folds over, protecting his thighs from that terrible, jerk-off, rod. But after a few moments of breathing, he finds the pain dissipates to a dull throb, kind of like when you stub your toe. It's awful, surprising pain, but then it's manageable. He takes up position again. "Just nine more to go," Cas says.

Sam bites his lip and nods. Cas makes good work of Sam's thighs, but is precise with each stroke like he's painting a picture. Each whack is just as painful as the last, but because Sam knows what's coming, he's able to breath through it and somehow manages to hold position. But when Cas indicates he should spread his legs wider, Sam's not sure he can. "Shhh, you're all right. You're doing fabulous beautiful—you see all of them? They're admiring you. You're quite the sight, especially when you scream."

Had he been?

"Just focus on me, I'll get you through this. I want to put some pretty ones here… and here." Cas show him the exact places on the inside of his thighs he'd like to put marks. "But you've got to hold still for me."

"Sir, please don't. I c-can't, can't do it."

Cas arches a brow. Sam knows what that means and shakes his head. "That's what I thought. You can. Just breath. Pretend you're meditating. It will hurt, a lot I'm afraid, but you can do this. C'mon now, only two left."

Sam perfects the demanding position, which he's proud he's been holding well through his punishment. Also, loud and proud, is his fucking cock. What's wrong with the thing? How can it like this? Sam wants to find that thing Cas is using and hide it where Cas will never find it again. "Ready, sir."

Sam breathes in and when Cas whacks the inside of his thigh he exhales, breathing hard, trying to channel the pain. Fuck. It fucking hurt more than the others, which are still beating in time with his heart. When the last one comes, he's ready for it, but he still cries out and Cas keeps his promise to aim true. He's sinks into his breath, still feeling the bite of the stripes and glad it's over, staring up at Cas, who's waiting for something. Oh. Right. "Thank you for, correcting me, sir."

Sam gets a special smile.

"Thanks, Sam," one of the men say. "That was killer. Totally forgiven."

"Yeah, totally," the other men agree. "In fact, if you want to misbehave again… that was beautiful to watch."

Sam looks at them through bleary eyes, he forgot they were here—that everyone was here. King Michael and Prince Gabriel approach, Nathan following Gabriel on some kind of chain that's attached to the loop in the front of his collar and on the belt at Gabriel's waist, when they stop, Nathan kneels at Gabriel's feet with all the grace in the world. "That was magnificent Castiel," Michael says. "Stunning. I approve."

"Thank you, Father," Cas says.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Samuel, my son tells me good things about you, I'm happy to see that they are true."

"N-nice to meet you, your highness." Does he bow? Sam doesn't know. He's already kneeling, so he hopes that's enough. He doesn't fancy leaning on his thighs just now.

King Michael leaves and the rest disappear as well, all except Gabriel and Nathan. Gabriel nudges Cas with his elbow. "See? Told you he'd approve. Cassy denies it all the time, but he's the favorite, Sam."

Cas glares at him. "You weren't getting reamed out over Gadreel's Ball yesterday."

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Exactly. He doesn’t care about anyone else being perfect, just you, but you're indulged none-the-less. Cassy's the apple of Daddy's eye."

Cas is further irritated. "Go play with your toy, Gabriel."

Sam has to keep from laughing—they're a bit like him and Dean. Sam looks to Nathan who's not offended in the least and is also enjoying their brotherly bickering. They share a smile.

"Speaking of Gadreel's ball, will you be needing my boy?" Gabriel gives Nathan a fond look and runs a hand through his hair.

 _That,_ now that ruffles Sam's feathers more than any other thing. The damn ball.

Cas shakes his head. "No. We've got something else worked out."

"Bet you do."

"Daddy, may I?" Nathan asks.

Gabriel seems to know what Nathan's asking. "Of course, sweetheart." In their own way, Gabriel and Nathan remind Sam of Dean and Benny. Gabriel may have Nathan in all kinds of bondage and kneeling at his feet, but he's no less special for it. Gabriel loves Nathan and Nathan Gabriel; it's clear for all to see.

Nathan zones in on Sam. "That was brilliant, Sam. I've never seen submission like it. You were breathtaking."

_He was?_

Sam's been looking up to Nathan as the example of beauty and grace and here he is paying Sam huge compliments, Sam barely knows what to say, but he's been raised to have good manners. "Thank you, Nathan."

"I agree. Good job, kid. You sure know how to pick'em, Cas. Last kid you did that to fainted on the first whack, this one's like a stallion."

Sam glares at Gabriel. So does Cas. Sam's not too mad though, he already understands that Gabriel is like the Dean, if he's comparing brother-brother relationships, even if Gabriel is the younger brother.

"Okay, okay. C'mon Nate, let's go find something fun to do."

Nathan gives Sam a sly smile—he's probably going to get to come, isn't he?—and unfolds himself like a swan, following behind his Sir, Daddy, what have you.

"C'mon, Baby. Up. Rules are rules and I can't give you an orgasm for this, since it was a punishment, but there are many others ways I can show you how pleased I am."


	7. Sam's Blue Balls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written Dean/Benny before. This has been fun. 
> 
> Sorry, but get ready to be blue-balled for a little, but oh how good will that orgasm be?

Dean has the best life. Often he wakes to Benny drawing lazy circles on his belly, which Dean knows means Benny's doing the thing where he's marveling at Dean, 'cause of how handsome he is and because he's hoping the circles will wake Dean, so he can slide his dick into Dean. Dean's told him time and time again he doesn't have to be awake for that, but Benny insists he's not into Somophilia or whatever; that he wants to see Dean's pretty green eyes when he fucks him. And sometimes he adds, "sugar" or "darlin'" on the end of that and that sends Dean over the moon.

So Benny waits 'till Dean wakes up and he doesn't care about Dean's morning breath as he kisses him and fucks him lazily and, let's face it _sensual as hell_ (Benny's firm and quiet, but fuck, he'll bull doze you with the force of his emotions in action form and if you're Dean, try to fuck them into you) they shower together and play over their day and decide what needs doing. And that's just waking up. Dean's day get a million times better from there.

Even with all that, they still manage to make it downstairs before Sam, who's not the earliest of risers. He's not exactly a late riser either, just not an early one like Dean and Ben are. Dean knows that Sam's a restless sleeper. Has been ever since their mom died; Sam was only seven. Dad used to let Sam crawl in with him, in the early days of her death, but soon, Dad said it was time for Sam to learn to sleep on his own. Since Dean and Sam shared a room the solution was easy, Dean let Sam crawl in with him, wrapped around him tight and kicked him out of bed before Dad could catch them. But eventually Sam grew out of needing to sleep with him and tossed and turned in his own bed, instead.

So yeah, there was Sam's restlessness, but sometimes Dean would wonder, if Sam's getting up later wasn't because, well maybe… maybe getting up wasn't as exciting for Sam as it was for him and Benny?

_At least it hadn't been._

Dean though, Dean fucking lucked out and met the best person for him and despite the odd night where he's partied too much (Ben doesn't really let him do that) getting up is exciting as hell because it's another day in paradise, with Benny. It's even better that his brother is there too—much as he loves to tease Sam, he fucking loves him to death.

He loves the cozy feeling of making breakfast for both Benny and Sam.

It's known in their home; Dean makes them breakfast and heaven help you if you try to usurp that privilege, but uh, you can do the dishes Sammy. Dean enjoys cooking for them. Doesn't mind the odd night out of making dinner though and cleaning can go fuck itself, but breakfast and lunch are his.

He's used to starting coffee, with Benny having gone to fetch his paper, or sitting at the table reading it, having the smells attract Sam, or even sometimes having to haul Sam's ass out of bed himself (favorite method: whacking the bottom of a metal pot with a wooden spoon; second favorite: Jumping on him while he's still in bed and smacking his face repeatedly). In any case, Dean's got used to Sam ambling out of room, his hair shaggy, scratching his nuts and feeling for the coffee Dean puts in his hand.

_Lately, mornings have been different._

For one, Dean can hear a lot of swearing out on the porch, which makes him fucking laugh as he scrambles eggs. "Dean." Benny's tone is full of, 'I don't want nonsense this morning.' He knows Dean's different laughs too well.

"C'mon Ben, it's funny."

"Will it still be funny, when you're over my knee, squealin' I wonder?" Benny doesn't look up from his paper.

"Yeah, yeah. I won't tease him."

Dean catches the smile, by way of the corners of Benny's eyes crinkling that say, 'well not now you won't.'

Much as Dean does like to tease Sam, it's nice to see Sam applying himself like this again. Because when Sam applies himself, he does with all his being, just like Dean. It's a Winchester trait; they can get real focused.

It can also be a curse. Focus turned obsession.

Which is why (and yes Dean's still going to have fun with this as far as Benny will let him) he's keeping an eye on Sam, like Sam (and Benny) would him in a similar situation.

Dean fries bacon and begins a second pot of fresh coffee (Sam missed the first). He listens out for his brother and hears him curse some more and even throw things. Then, silence, for about ten minutes, followed by breathing that makes it sound like he's benching three fifteen. More silence.

When Sam finally comes in (dressed in sweats and a t-shirt; feet bare) he looks like he's been through a workout. "How long's he get you to do that?" Dean asks.

"An hour."

"An hour? An hour and all 'a that fuss?" Dean asks.

"I'm aiming for three. Want to impress him."

This sounds like the kind of Winchester-type obsession Dean's talking about. When Sam obsesses, Dean worries; Benny warnings be damned. "Maybe you should stick to the one, Sam."

"Leave it Dean. You wouldn't understand," Sam says.

"Oh, so now I'm just some stupid asshole? Fuck you Sam. You were askin' my advice before and now it's shit?"

"You see me askin' now? Keep your opinions to yourself."

"Easy now you two. Enough," Benny says. "Dean, I think you were serving up breakfast, Sam, Dean's got a point."

Dean does go back to making breakfast, but he pokes out his chest a little, hearing Benny agree with him.

"Of course you side with him," Sam says.

Dean laughs. "As if! Benny would never side with me just because, you know that Sammy. What the fuck's got into you this morning? Does Cas know you're doing three? 'Cause I think if he says one, it's supposed to be one."

"Again, no one asked you what you fucking think."

"Didn't I say enough?" Benny says.

 _Shit._ "You did, sir."

"C'mere, please," Benny says folding up his paper.

 _Fuck._ "Ben, I'm sorry. I'll shut up now." Dean knows it's too late though.

Benny does the infuriating thing where he doesn't say another word, but Dean knows he's waiting on Dean, expecting Dean to go to him. It's an interesting feeling—the knowing you're about to get a spanking. Neither good, nor bad. It's like there's a thickness between him and Benny, pulling them together, making Dean's backside tingle and his tummy swim. And Benny will wait like that for him, 'till fucking eternity ends, or until Dean's been spanked. It's never a good idea to make Benny wait, Dean knows, but sometimes, he has the thought that he just won't go. Refuse. He's a grown man, grown men don't need spankings! Even after all these years, it's still embarrassing to say the word spanking sometimes and to get one? Even more so, especially when you know you deserve it.

"I have to serve breakfast, Ben," he tries.

Benny waits. Dean wants to stomp his feet.

As the minutes tick by, okay not minutes, seconds, Dean gets an irrational, scared feeling. Irrational, because in all this time, Benny's never done anything more than a spanking and Dean knows he never will (sure some spankings are worse than others) but the scary, anxious feeling builds never-the-less; thick and building and building 'till, "Ugh! Fine! This is fucking stupid."

He throws his spatula down and storms over to Benny. Dean takes a glance over to Sam and feels, for a second, like it's Sam's fault he's getting spanked, but he erases that feeling pretty quick. He knows this is his fault. Benny's been giving him warnings before Sam even walked in the kitchen, because Benny knows things can get like this and when they do, things between Dean and Sam escalate—Benny prefers to put an end to nonsense he sees percolating.

Another thing that doesn't seem to matter, is how many times Dean's been spanked; he still gets nervous anticipation which grows wildly, as Benny unbuttons his jeans. There's a slight chill as Benny pulls down his pants and boxers (was it cold in here? It is now) but there's an odd comfort that settles his squirmy belly when said belly meets Benny's thighs.

Sam's seen this happen often enough, hell, has even been in this position when he's gone too far with Benny, so Dean's not too worried about having an audience per se. It's not his favorite thing, but it's not psyche-damaging.

Benny doesn't bother with a fancy lecture this time, since by this point in their relationship, Benny knows, Dean knows why Benny's spanking him (least for stuff like this), so he just starts in. Loud slaps fill the kitchen, along with Dean's dramatic (he can admit it) wailing. "Ow! Ben, okay. I get your point."

Benny's real patient, but once you're out of warnings, he tells you how much he didn't appreciate you ignoring his kind warnings. "When I say enough, I mean enough. Understood?"

"Yeah. Yes! Ow, _Benny!_ "

Dean has to kick, alternating feet (Benny spanks hard) apologizing over and over, but Benny doesn't let up until he's properly spanked. "Corner, that one please," he says when Dean's standing. He helps Dean pull up his jeans, giving him no quarter. His ass _fucking_ smarts.

"Yes, sir." Sniff.

He stares at the fucking wall, feeling some pleasure listening to Sam get a decent telling off from Benny, but also feeling bad and worried for Sam; Dean knows he's just doing his pleasing thing.

"C'mere Cher," Benny says. Dean runs to Benny and climbs into his lap, letting Benny surround him. This is by far the best thing about spankings. Benny sways him best he can and kisses his head.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam says. "I know you're just looking out for me, but I'm fine. Really."

Dean's sure Sam actually believes that bullshit, but Dean knows better and from the way he can feel Benny is watching Sam, Dean knows Benny thinks so too.

**

When Sam leaves for work, Benny throws the newspaper down in front of him. "Do we tell Sam, or hunt Crowley down ourselves, kill him, then tell Sam by way of his head stuffed and mounted in the living room?"

There's a picture of Sam, he's curled into Cas, Cas's arms around him. The picture itself isn't bad, there's' actually something… something about it. Okay fine, the asshole is a talented photographer, but it's the rest of the article Dean has a problem with. It's titled, "Slaves 'R' Us" with a despicable article underneath. _"It's not books you'll want to see when you enter Elm Street's bookstore, but the naked crotch and even better, the spanked ass of Sam Winchester, newest slave of Crown Prince Castiel Novak."_ The guy can't even fucking write. _"…Eye witness accounts said, 'the man was out of control, bitch needed to be brought back into line. Needs a leash.' Another said, 'That's not the sort of slave I expected to see our prince with—so disobedient!'"_ Do people actually read this crap? _"Many were appalled at such behavior, but lucky for customers, they witnessed our prince's hand in action—literally."_

"What a dick! I'll kill him Ben. Let's kill him."

"Whoa there Tiger. We need a plan before we go off half-cocked, but I agree. He needs to be stopped."

He does. Sammy should get to enjoy falling in love, without this asshole ruining everything—especially with all the stress he's under. "We'll stop him all right and bring Sam his camera on a pike."

**

Fucking Dean anyway. Sam apologized, he doesn't like _actual_ fights with his brother, but now, Dean has him doubting his plan and that's irritating him. In hindsight, it's not the best plan; it means doing something arduous for longer than he has to. Meditating for three hours, starting from the crack of dawn isn't a barrel of fun for anyone who wants to know. But if it will get him one step closer to his goal of being at Cas's side for the big ball, he'll do it 'till then, after which, he's stopping. One hour of meditation per day is plenty. _If only he put as much energy into earning an orgasm as he was this; maybe he'd actually have earned one by now._

Work drags on for Sam and he realizes how much he hates working in this place. He took the job because they needed the money and because he thought he'd like working in a bookstore because of how much he likes books. Turns out, it's not what he thought it would be. He enjoys what he does at the Ranch with his brothers and reading as a hobby. But not working here, especially since he works for such a dick.

And now… He wishes he could spend more hours working on his training, so he can be ready for the ball, not in this dump. He'd rather be with his new books. Books he hasn't gotten to spend as much time with (yes like they're people) as he would have liked, since he mouthed off to Cas over them a few times; Cas had to lay down the law. _"Yes, it's your library and yes it's exciting, but if you're going to going to misbehave, you're not going to see it often."_ And when that still didn't work, _"You can earn library time by behaving yourself."_

Sam did behave after that. Earning things from Cas has proven to be tough. For instance, it's been three days with no relief or release and he's pretty sure he's nowhere near an orgasm with all the mouthing off. Sam knows Cas won't let him go dangerously long without the former two, but he will let him go long enough to ride the edge of insanity, which is where he is now. He's sure Cas will take care of him tonight, but with the amount of attitude he sent in his last text, he's certain no orgasm is forthcoming.

It's not just sexual frustration getting the better of him. He can't fucking sleep, more than usual. Whenever he's with Cas, he sleeps like a fucking baby, without him, it's back to his tossing and turning and now that he knows how he feels off of a good night's sleep, he's keen to get that more often and it's all the more frustrating when he can't.

Plus he's got goals, so he's been up early every morning, even earlier than Dean and Benny, to meditate. Two hours is still difficult, three hours is impossible, but like training for a marathon, you've got to do the training runs to accomplish the race, this is a lot like that; he can get through this. Just think about how proud Cas will be!

"Winchester, get in the back. It's your turn to do the shipment," his evil boss orders.

When he gets to the back, Kevin is there. He doesn't look good. "Kevin? I thought it was my turn to do the shipment?"

"What? Huh? Oh yeah, Sam, I'll go out front and dust I guess."

"Kev, you okay dude?"

"Yeah, just tired. I picked up your extra shifts here, plus working at the violin store. There's also this guy… called Brandon, he likes my stuff, he plays too; he wants to create this album with me, so we started composing pieces. We're both gonna play different violin sections, it will be really cool, but I have to work on it in my spare time, which means foregoing sleep, _a lot_."

"That's great, Kevin." Maybe that's Kevin's ticket out of here.

"Well, we'll see. What about you?"

Sam fills him in. The whole time with a goofy grin.

Sam continues working as he does this, unloading boxes, but Kevin's leaning against a shelf, barely able to stay awake, so when Mr. Evil comes in, that's how he finds Kevin. "Lazy! No good! Ingrate!" He grabs Kevin by his arm. "I knew you were slacking off. That's it, I'm docking your pay two days for this."

Can he do that? Yeah. Sam remembers that Mr. Evil Boss can. Unfortunately, labor laws are not in favor of employees at the moment, with work being so scarce.

"But sir! It was only a minute, I swear."

"I don't know that, I just see laziness. C'mon, move." Their boss, gives Kevin a small shove in the direction of the store front. Sam wants to throw books at his head. He wishes they had more money at the Ranch. He'd quit and hire Kevin. Dean and Benny would love having him around. Benny would have another brat to keep in line and Dean would have another brat to pact with. Sure Sam's earned himself some spankings and hell, he's realizing submitting to Cas is where it's at for him, but he's no brat, not really. Of course, if you'd looked in on him and Cas the other day you wouldn't believe that, apparently there are some things Sam will push for and brat about, but overall, he's not like Dean or Kevin.

By the time Sam reaches Cas's place (he's been spending more and more time at the palace) he's exhausted and his nuts fucking ache—his nuts are sore, like Dean socked him there. He had all day to sort books and think about all the things Cas might do to him.

The three hours of meditation have made him sore in other places, but he's excited to show off for Cas that is, until he's actually naked an kneeling before Cas and Cas's lips pinch at him, concerned. Is he disappointed? Upset? Is Sam doing something wrong?

"Why does that look so painful? If someone's giving you pain, it better be me."

"Just sore, sir, from the meditations."

This doesn't seem to clarify anything for Cas. "How can that be? I expect you to be sore, but you look like you can barely move."

That's all Cas says (and it's not a rhetorical question either) but something about the way he says those four little words, make Sam feel like maybe Dean was right. Suddenly, he doesn't want to tell Cas and tears spring to his eyes. " _Samuel…_ "

"I've been doing three hours, sir. I wanted to excel in my training… impress you." Sam closes his mouth and looks at the ground, lip wobbling, silent tears sliding down his cheeks waiting—the wait is torture; he can feel Cas's eyes on him.

After a long while, Cas gently maneuvers Sam's chin with this forefinger and thumb, so Sam has to look at his icy-blues. "Those are gorgeous tears my love, I wish they were for another reason."

Sam sniffles and nods and swallows tears.

"I believe I told you one hour. I told you one hour for a reason. Who is in charge of your training Samuel?"

"You are, sir."

"Correct. But you have seen fit to hijack my duty. I wonder why? Am I not performing adequately?"

"No, sir. I mean, you are, sir. I'm sorry, sir." He's pleading. Cas hasn't done anything other than express his displeasure and here he is pleading, just wanting the atmosphere to change.

"You were well intended, I understand that, but that's not the point. It wasn't your decision to make. You submitting to me, means you give over to what I think is best for you, Samuel. This makes me think we need to do some other kinds of training. You're not working tomorrow, correct?"

"Correct, sir."

"And your brothers, do they need you?"

Sam notices Cas isn't asking Sam if he's available. If the others don't need him, he's all Cas's. Somehow, that calms his nerves. He half smiles through the tears. "They don't need me, sir."

Cas runs calming fingers through Sam's hair. "I'm afraid I do have to punish you for your disobedience. How are these?" Cas asks, smile sadistic, gently nudging Sam's sore nuts with his bare toe.

It's hard for Sam to keep position, but he does, his tears begin anew, for a different reason. "They hurt, sir. Feels like they're bruised."

Cas chuckles. "There now, these are the tears I love—tears of gorgeous pain I have inflicted. I love how you suffer for me beautiful boy."

Sam's heart feels content, though yes he is suffering.

"My plan was to allow you to find relief on my cock, I was looking forward to watching you fuck yourself on me, begging until come spurted out of your caged cock."

Sam is still experiencing the euphoria of having pleased Cas for something, but he's disappointed he won't get to do that. "Instead, I'm still going to empty these, but in another way that's less fun… for you." Same sadistic smile. Sam shivers. They're good shivers.

"You can feel soothed knowing I'll get plenty of enjoyment. C'mon. Let's get you prepped then shall we?"

**

Sam doesn’t know what's about to happen, but that's half the excitement. "You comfortable, beautiful boy?"

Comfortable isn't exactly the word he'd use to describe his predicament, but he doesn't feel in any danger, nor does he feel uncomfortable per se. He hopes he won't remain in the position all night, but _fuck_ is he fucking turned on.

Cas has attached his hands and feet to a spreader bar. He's on his back, so the bar is over his stomach, his arm's length away, his knees have to bend, everything is exposed, even his cock which has been taken out of its confines. The position as it is, makes it so he can't put his head down and he's rounded toward his feet and hands, which are all pointing skyward. He's on Cas's bed, there are plenty of pillows behind him.

"Not really, sir," Sam says knowing that will please Cas. It's the truth.

"Good. I thought about a pretty ring gag, but I like it so much better when I can talk to you and you can beg me."

 _Fuck._ What that does to him. Sam needs to swallow. "Yes, sir."

"Look at you, all open, ready for me to do as I please; can't do a thing about it. You like that, don't you Samuel?"

Sam feels breathless, but somehow he manages to answer. "Y-yes, sir."

"Beg me to touch your cock."

Cas has kept his promise. He doesn't allow Sam's cock out often and when he does, it's not for the thing Sam thinks about non-stop: Having an orgasm, it's going to be to torture him to death, edge him 'till he's pleading. No. The _last_ thing Sam wants is for Cas to go anywhere near his cock.

But that's not what this is about. Sam's beginning to understand. This is about submitting, giving himself to Cas. Doing what Cas wants and in that, he finds it's what he wants, even when it's not a particular _thing_ he wants. Half the time, it's confusing to not want-want something, but when all is said and done, Sam's body responds, telling him exactly what he likes. This doesn't mean he accepts this right away. "No, please."

"Oh? You don't want me to touch your cock? I thought you wanted relief? Don't these hurt?" Cas reaches out to squeeze Sam's balls, gently. Gently doesn't matter, it still fucking hurts, since his balls are blue.

Sam winces. "They do, they hurt, sir."

"Then ask me nicely and I shall empty them for you, don't and I'll happily leave them another day."

Sam really doesn't want that. "Please, sir. Please touch my cock."

"If you insist."

Cas douses Sam's cock in lubricant and Sam lets out a scream of pleasure, when Cas grips his dick hard and begins to stroke. "Fuck, fuck. Jesus, Cas! Please." It feels so god damned good.

Just as Sam's building, Cas backs off and leaves him in agony. "Fun. We're just getting started my love."

Just getting started? Sam thinks he might die. Cas continues his game of bringing Sam close, not close enough to build and pour over, but enough that Sam experiences the wonderful climbing sensation of an orgasm on its way, with Cas backing off every fucking time he's gained a nice lead. He can't move, or do a thing about it, he's at Cas's mercy, his cock weeping and Sam pleading for Cas to just let him come.

Sam almost loses his mind when Cas presses a slick finger into his hole, adding to the sensations, and overwhelming him.

Sam feels like he's flying… no, Sam feels some of the peaceful calm he sometimes achieves when he's been meditating, which gives him the sensation of freedom.

All the while, Cas has Sam begging and pleading and moaning to just let him come, please let him come. He makes Cas every promise under the sun, but Cas backs off every time, enjoying Sam's heavy breathing. And the tears. Sam can feel his face getting wet, Cas smiles with complete adoration and Sam wants to give him everything. "That's it beautiful boy, just like that, you're so lovely when you're helpless and desperate like this. Come on, that's it, just a little more…"

Cas takes him to the edge and rides it, pushing Sam to the end of his endurance, the end of his sanity. Sam begs for more. 'Till finally, Cas lets him build a final time. He's going, up, up, up and alllmost over, Cas let's go of his dick at just the right time—Cas stops all stimulation, just past that point of no return. Come is spewing out of Sam's cock, without any of the pleasurable feelings of an orgasm. It's the world's biggest let down, but it's accompanied by the strangest feeling of pride. It's still… "That was awful, sir," Sam says, pouting.

"Next time, you'll obey me, won't you?"

"Yes, sir."

Cas finishes milking Sam's cock, smiling at him and uttering endearments. "You did well, my love."

Cas, still clothed, undoes his pants enough to release his cock, Sam's ass is at the perfect height to slide in, open and slicked up from the fingers he had in there and Cas begins fucking him in earnest—Sam can do nothing but take it. His cock is spent, from being emptied, but he can feel it attempting to get hard again. Beyond that, there's a feeling that settles over him; he's here for Cas, ready and at Cas's service and he's beginning to think that this is his happy place. Maybe.

Cas releases into Sam and when he pulls out, pops a plug into Sam's ass as he gives Sam another earth-shattering kiss. "Thank you Samuel, you're something special."

Sam feels himself coming out of the meditative state he was in, as Cas releases him from the spreader bar and uses a warm cloth to clean him up and nice oils to soothe his tired muscles from being in the position for however long he was—Sam doesn't know, or care. All he seems to want to do is focus on Cas, be with Cas, touch Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas.

He figures he must of died and gone to heaven when he feels Cas's warm skin press against him, as Cas opens the covers and slides in behind him. Sam snuggles backward with a soft moan. How can he feel this good without even having come?

"That's it, sleep Baby." And Cas is _singing?_ in his deep, gravely voice as Sam does drift off to sleep, content and feeling loved.


	8. Training Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry new tags. There are so many kinks in this, it's hard to get them all!

Sam is surprised when Cas tells him he has "princely" things to do all morning and more surprised when Sam is given instructions to, "obey Nathan."

"Obey Nathan? What?" How is that fair? Why does he get to be in charge?

"It's awfully early in the morning to be earning spankings. And that's one by the way."

Sam is laying on the bed, his head at the end, on his stomach, watching Cas get dressed, which is somehow, just as sexy as when he gets undressed. He gives Cas a sullen look. "Oh no you don't, I'm not caving. This isn't punishment, you're going to learn some things today whether I'm with you, or not. Why will you obey Nathan?"

"Because you said so, sir." And he will, but it doesn't mean Sam has to be happy about it. "But sir, I don't think I can—" Sam was going to say, do sex things with Nathan.

"Who is in charge of your training?"

"You are sir."

"And do you think I'm going to give you anything you're not ready for?"

"I know you won't sir, but how do you know?"

"Angel remember? I can read you, Samuel. Everything. Now come say goodbye to me."

Sam's still not sure how that works, but so far that seems to be the case, so he leaves it and slinks off the bed, still in a mood (he doesn't want Cas to go) and ambles over to say goodbye. Without warning, Cas pulls one of Sam's legs up and toward him by the meat of his hamstring and uses his other hand to hook a finger through the loop of his collar, hitting Sam with a sensational kiss that involves tongue, lots of tongue. Once again, Cas has taken Sam's breath away. "Be a good boy," Cas says with a hefty smack to Sam's ass, enough to leave a glowing handprint. "If I hear you've been misbehaved, I'll have to punish you instead of reward you."

Sam can't believe how much excitement fills him. "Do you mean I could earn an orgasm, sir?"

"Very slim, maybe." Holding that power and using it to make Sam suffer gives Cas pleasure; it's clear on his face.

_Sadistic Bastard._

But none of that dims Sam's excitement. "I'll be… I'll be a good boy, sir," Sam says, even though it still makes him squirm a little, but it makes Cas so fucking happy and dammed if that's not at the top of his priorities these days.

"You'd better be. Be extra good and we can visit your library for some books to sweeten the deal." Sam doesn't know if books can compare to an orgasm opportunity right now. "Obey Nathan—everything he says." Cas might be rubbing it in, no, is definitely rubbing it in, to see if he can rile Sam—it's a test.

"Yes, sir," Sam says, a smirk full on his lips and in his eyes; he's up for the challenge.

Then Cas is gone.

He was given no instructions other than to obey Nathan. Should he get dressed? Should he shower? Should he eat? He doesn't want to do the wrong thing and ruin his chance at an orgasm, though Cas won't really fault him on not knowing, will he? Even if he won't, Sam has the strange desire to _earn_ that orgasm. He doesn't want it on a technicality. So he thinks, what would Cas want him to do?

His muscles are still a little sore from yesterday, though the oils Cas rubbed into him must have had a little Angel magic woven in because he feels pretty damn good, but a little more rest probably wouldn't go a miss. So he decides on texting his brother to let him know he'll be at Cas's for the day and pulling out his copy of Excalibur he'd brought from home he'd put in the drawer on _his_ side of Cas's bed and waits naked, for Nathan to come get him.

**

When Nathan does appear, he's just as handsome as always, but today, he's prouder than a peacock. Sam knows why. "Okay, laugh it up, you're in charge today." Sam remembers their conversation about 'Sirs' and how he assumed he'd be the 'Sir' between them, feeling more than a little embarrassed now. He's getting used to the feeling though.

"Sure am," he says holding onto invisible suspenders. Nathan is naked as usual, with cuffs on his wrists and ankles, but neither set are attached this time. His cock is locked up like Sam's sure his will be momentarily, a leather harness across his chest and torso and his collar. Nathan's as tall as Sam with a stockier build; a more barreled chest. Everything about him is thick in fact, except his waist, which tapers narrowly into his hips. _Bet he can hold that trying, kneeling position for three hours._

"Here's how things are going to go, I've been given instructions, which you can be sure I'll follow to the letter. I am allowed to punish you if you don't follow through."

"Punish me? I thought Cas was going to do that, if I misbehaved."

"Oh, I'm sure he will, regardless." Yeah, that's probably true. "But I've got powers today."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I'm not really a switch, but every now and again, yeah, I enjoy being in charge. What I love most though is teaching; I'm here to educate you, Sam. You may ask me any questions, without fear of reprimand."

"Gee thanks. Should I be calling you sir, too?" Sam's not so sure he likes this. He's not so sure he hates it either. God dammit. It's that stupid in between he seems to like-not-like. This is going to be an interesting morning.

"No. We're not going to get that formal, but I am going to ask you to say 'yes Nathan' and 'no Nathan,' or 'please spank me Nathan.'" Nathan smiles (he's got a pretty smile), Sam scowls.

"That doesn't sound like fun, _Nathan._ "

"Look at you, catching on already. I might not get to spank you at all today—wouldn't that be a shame—I've been dying to spank that cute ass of yours."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam gets it; a spanking is in his near future. "Anything else, Nathan?"

"Within my instructions, there is leeway—I am very much in charge today, but know I've earned it. I'm a respected mentor around here and I hope you'll take advantage. I expect you'll give me trouble on the first day, they all do, but I hope you'll let me teach you."

He seems sincere. "You're a mentor?"

"I am and that's one for forgetting the appellation."

God damn. "Are the warnings like Sir's warnings?" Sam's beginning to be able to read Cas, but he has no idea how to read Nathan.

"No. Mine are more like demerits. Each one is a spank," he says, way too giddy.

Sam's eyes budge. "Each one?"

"Yep, once they've accumulated of course… and that's two."

Freaking Hell. Nathan smiles again and it's so warm, Sam forgets to be pissed at him. "You'll learn. For now, let's go. We're going to get you cleaned and outfitted, then we'll have breakfast."

Since Sam is pretty sure he doesn't need clothes around here, he follows Nathan out of the room as naked as Cas left him.

**

Sam is taken to what is apparently a giant bathing room. There are other pets and slaves lounging, eating, bathing and doing… things. Sex things. Sam can't help but want to watch some of it. Nathan clears his throat to get Sam's attention. "We're going to take these off," Nathan says, referring to his cuffs, "and take this out," he adds referring to the plug. Sam's led to a section that offers some privacy, but not a lot; there's a table that looks a lot like a massage table, but with some differences, a sink with all kinds of strange attachments, a counter space and cupboards. There's also a padded bench that comes to about Sam's waist. It's not your typical bench of course; it peaks and has padded, rectangles that slant downward in either direction. There are buckles at each corner. "Bend over, Sam."

Sam sighs. "Yes, Nathan." Sam's chest rests on one side of the bench, with his hips on the other, he's not simply bent over, but bent in half. His arms have to reach out to the floor.

"Yes, that's it. Legs nice and wide. You must always make yourself as available as you can for your Sir. He'll like that," Nathan says. "Do I need to buckle you in, or will you stay still for me?"

"I can stay still," fuck, "Nathan."

That must have passed, because Sam doesn't get 'three,' and Nathan's fingers begin poking around at his hole. Of course, his cock wakes up immediately. And Sam's made aware, he's still cageless—suddenly, he'd really, really like his cock cage back. "Wait! Nathan, my, my, I'm going to come—"

"No you're not. You don't have permission. That's something I don't have the authority to give and your Sir made it very clear: No orgasms."

He knows Nathan is only doing what he's supposed to do, but right now, Sam really, really wants to punch him in the dick.

"C'mon. I'm going to help you. Think about pleasing your Sir. We'll go slow." And they do. It doesn't stop Sam's dick being interested, but Nathan is able to ease the plug out, without Sam defying Cas's orders; he thinks of Cas, the look on his face, when Sam can say how good he was.

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Not hard? I'm hard as nails over here, Nathan."

Nathan laughs. "I am sorry, Sam. I'm not a sadist, I don't get the same enjoyment out of this your Sir does, but he will love the story."

It's not helping that the mortification, of having Cas's come leak from his ass, is also turning him on; maybe he should punch himself in the dick—that's got to make it lose interest. "I'm going to help you clean this today, but I'm going to show you, so you can do it for your Sir, yourself."

"What's that, Nathan?"

He gets his answer, by way of water trickling from the sink attachment that Nathan's pulled over this way, then, there's a nozzle being inserted into his slick hole. It's a small nozzle, much smaller than anything he's had up there of late, but it's a little shocking. "Nathan!"

Nathan chuckles. "Colonic treatment. It's just water this time, but there are a few options for you, to stay cleaned out for your Sir."

Right, cleaned out for Sir. That seems to bring Sam back to his purpose, every time. The colonic treatment isn't bad, not bad at all. It's kinda, pleasant actually, once again, his dick likes it. "Why aren't I getting any cramps?" Sam's pretty sure he's read about this in kinky novels, they always get some kind of cramps.

"You might if you decide to do one with coffee and the coffee's not as fresh as it could be, but you shouldn't actually get cramps, it should be comfortable."

Huh. But, "Coffee?"

"Yep, for colon health."

Nathan fills Sam until Sam feels a full sensation. Then they time twelve minutes and Sam is told to go off and 'release' his bowels in the toilet and by the way, do not touch his dick. As if Sam would! But when he's alone with said dick, he sees why he got the warning. It's very tempting, especially as turned on as he is. He has to think about Cas a lot (which doesn't help matters—sexy Cas in or out of clothes) to make it through what he has to do, without giving in and touching his dick. The carrot stick of an orgasm, even if it's only a maybe is too great to pass up. Sam would much rather have orgasms from Cas.

When he's back to Nathan, he sees Nathan has his cuffs and things off, even his collar. He's holding a key, Sam grabs for his collar, like Nathan's going to take it away forever. Nathan laughs again. "Don't worry, it's just while we bathe, everything will be safe here."

"Sir said I could shower with it on." Sam's not convinced. "He did something to protect the leather."

"Yes, but sometimes you have to get the skin underneath it Sam."

"But, but, but…" then he won't have anything to remind him of Cas.

Nathan puts a hand on the back of Sam's neck. "It's okay, I know how you feel, but you have other reminders you can focus on," he says. "You've got some pretty marks on you."

True, but not near enough if you ask Sam. Even the prominent markings on his thighs from days ago have already faded too much.

"Maybe someday, your Sir will tattoo you. I have this one." Nathan turns around to show Sam the tattoo on the back of his neck visible now that he's got his collar off. It's written in Enochian. "It says 'Daddy's Boy," Nathan tells him. 

Sam can't imagine having that particular tattoo, but he's a little jealous. He's realizing how ephemeral even his collar is; he'd like something permanent like Nathan has, but will Cas want to put his mark on him like that? A collar is one thing, but a tattoo is much harder to remove than simply unlocking a collar and unbuckling. Sam notices Nathan has some other interesting tattoos on his wrists and ankles, like cuffs for when his cuffs are off.

"So, you going to let me take it off?"

"Yes, Nathan." But Sam doesn't like it. As Nathan's working on the lock, Sam has a thought. "What about you, Nathan? Do you have to do all that?"

"Yes. Did it all this morning early. Sir likes to, well he has a thing for enemas and gets a kick out of doing them to me." Nathan actually sounds a bit shy about that. "There's not always time, but since he wouldn't see me for part of the day, he made sure to this morning."

Nathan leads them over to a section of the bath and Sam follows Nathan, down some stairs, into the water. It's the perfect temperature and it seems to soothe his aching muscles like the massage oil did. The water never gets deeper than Sam's waist and there are stations that have soap and shampoos and showerheads. There are places to sit, sunk into the water that's a pretty azure blue and other people are milling about, talking and laughing and washing each other.

Sam gets to see how popular and respected Nathan is. Everyone has a bright smile for him, or a wave. Nathan introduces Sam and they're kind to him, but they seem to know that Nathan is here on business and not to interrupt them for too long. Nathan leads Sam to a semi-private area where there are yet more sets of soaps and shampoos, sponges, clothes and loofas.

Nathan hands Sam a cloth and some soap. "I want you to wash me Sam."

"Wash you, but—"

"Don't think too much about it. C'mon, it'll be fun. Besides, don't you want some practice, in case your Sir asks you to wash him?"

Wash Cas? Fuck. Yeah, he'd like some practice. "Yes, Nathan."

"Hop to it."

Sam does 'hop to it,' but he needs more instruction than he thought he would. Nathan shows him how to best scrub his wide back so it both feels good and gets him clean, "after all, our Sirs could just use a wave of grace in private to clean their vessels, give him a reason it should be done this way."

Sam gets a little shy when it's time to clean in between Nathan's legs. "C'mon Sam, you can do better, I was looking forward to this." Nathan winks. Sam scowls. It's a really nice penis, but he doesn't just go around touching other dude's penises.

"I'm trying it's just…"

"Not your Sir's?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, Nathan. That's three. Would it help you to know how much your sir would have liked to see you wash me down there?"

"He would have?"

"Four. He does. He said so himself. In fact, he'd like to see you do a lot more than wash it."

That does give Sam some interesting tingles. He nods and tries to do a better job, washing over Nathan's cock and balls. Nathan bends over the side of the bathing pool to give Sam access to his ass and even moans a bit through the process. "That was pretty good, but now it's my turn."

Sam didn't know being washed, with absolutely no sex stuffs, could be so arousing. Sure, Nathan touches his dick, but there is far more almost touching of his dick that's the worst of it and when Nathan tells him to bend over so he can get the crease of Sam's ass, Nathan doesn't even have to tell Sam to spread his legs wide. "That's a good boy, but arch your back—no rounding—it'll look way sexier for your Sir if your ass is up and available to him."

Sam is proud of the way he follows Nathan's instructions and imagines doing all of this for Cas, making him proud. Nathan takes his time with Sam's hair, sitting in one of the sunken, bath seats and making Sam sit on his lap, with his very hard dick, running up Sam's lower back. Sam can't care by this point. Everything Nathan does feels so good and yes he is turned on, a lot, but there's also something non-sexual about the event that's just as lovely. By the end of it, Sam feels a bond with Nathan in a deeper friendship. Nathan knows about Sam's special proclivities and even wants to teach him. That means a lot to Sam. Sam begins to relax a little.

When they're finished with their bath, they return to the place they began, wrapped in towels; all of their 'equipment' has been cleaned and shined up. Sam sees that his cock cage has been added to the pile. Before, he might have cringed, but now he only feels relief. Not coming will be so much easier with his cock behind bars; he silently thanks Castiel for his mercy.

Nathan helps him 'dress' in the usual, cuffs, collar, Sam gets his own harness, but it seems, a plug will be part of his attire now, at least for today. This plug has a chain attached to the bottom and it attaches (how convenient) to Sam's cock cage at the base, just above his balls, the chain hanging below them. How does Cas expect him to sit like this? _I don't know, but I can't wait to see how you figure it out._ Yeah, that's exactly what Cas would say. Sadist.

Sam is feeling happy to be back in his chastity and all his other décor, until Nathan says, "Hands together."

"What?"

"Five and six. Disobey me again and it will be seven."

Nathan doesn't get a nice look from Sam, but Sam obeys him and Nathan locks Sam's wrists together in front. "I always think behind the back is prettier, but your Sir is right, it's so much more frustrating when your hands are right there in front of you and you can't use them. Believe me, I know."

Already Sam is envious of Nathan's freedom. "I thought you said you weren't a sadist, Nathan."

Nathan's still smiling that annoyingly fresh and gorgeous smile of his. "I'm not. But I agree it is better for learning what we have to accomplish today. Your Sir will put you into some frustrating scenarios, I'm going to give you pointers."

Sam frowns. "Why you, Nathan? Why not, Sir?" Could Cas not be bothered with him?

"It's nothing like you're thinking. He thought it would be easier for you; I understand the kind of pressure one can feel when Sir is present, Sam."

"But I thought he was doing this because, I…" Sam can hardly say it.

"It's okay, Sam. I know. You went overboard wanting to please your Sir. Been there, done that."

"I don't understand Nathan, isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, it's a good thing, in theory, but the idea is you submitting to him, giving yourself over to him; doing what he says. That can be hard in the beginning, trust has to build, which is the other reason he paired us together. You can only gain trust by experience. He asked you to give yourself over to me today, yes?"

"Yes, Nathan."

"He's asking you to trust his decision to leave you in my care. Sure, you don't know what I'll do to you, but he's promised it's nothing he thinks you can't handle, you'll only see if it was true by living through the experience. This is a trust building exercise, even though he's not here."

Huh, well then.

"I think it's safe to say you've been enjoying yourself so far, yes?"

Sam smiles even though he hates to admit it. "Yes, Nathan, though I don't know if I'm going to like the spanking I have coming."

"Well let me assure you, you won't," he says waggling his eyebrows. "But it'll be fun anyway."

**

Sam follows the ruggedly handsome Nathan to a large room with a long table. There are two plates and no cutlery. It's almost like the first night with Cas, except no special chairs since his hands are bound in front. _He couldn't do this in front of Cas, Cas thinks he can do this in front of Nathan? He's definitely not eating from Nathan's hand. No way in Hell and…_

"Sam. Sam? Pay attention. I'll add demerits if you zone out again like that. Get out of your head. All you need to do is obey me."

"But I don't—"

"Seven."

"Nathan—"

"Eight, unless your next word was about to be a certain word?" He raises his eyebrow.

Sam's not ready to give up yet. "No, Nathan."

"Good, sit please."

Sam does, when Nathan pulls out his chair, but he's pissed. Nathan is amused as he has been the whole morning through so far. Then he takes his own seat, at the head of the table and nods to the staff to serve them. Food is brought out on plates and he notices as before, his food is cut into bite-sized pieces, Nathan's is not. Sure it's just eggs, fruit and sausage, but there's toast—also in bite-sized pieces for Sam.

Sam sits, staring at his plate, feeling sorry for himself and wishing his hands were undone.

"I'm going to tell you something Sam. One of my rules."

Sam cocks a brow. _Oh?_

"I'm not allowed to eat with my own hands, free or not, in charge of a newbie sub or not, Sir present, or not. How frustrating do you think that is?"

"Very, Nathan. But, yours isn't cut up. How are you going to?" Sam nods over to his plate.

Nathan gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. Graceful as a dancer, he holds his hands in front of him, like Sam's are and leans down to his plate, expertly taking a bite from one of his sausages, making it look easy. He sits up smiling broadly. Nathan continues to eat, not using his hands at all and Sam's fascinated by how good he is at it.

Sam has a question. "I don’t get it though, don't you feel humiliated? Debased? Hell, shy?"

"Yes, in the best of ways. And that's nine by the way," he says happy as you please. He keeps eating.

"Do you have to look so darn happy about it?"

"Ten. Now I think you're just asking for a spanking. To answer your question, I am happy about it. I'm happiest when I'm doing the things I know Daddy likes. I love submitting to him, it gives me great pleasure."

Sam continues to watch Nathan enjoy himself, but he leaves his plate untouched. "I don’t want to do this," he says finally.

Nathan shrugs. "You don't have to. Your sir said this is one of things he wasn't one hundred percent sure of and not to make you."

Oh… well, oh. Sam has no idea why that disappoints him. "Nathan, is Sir going to, break up with me," if that's what you call it, "if I don't do the things he likes?"

"That man is head over heels in love with you, I'm sure if there are things you truly don't like, he'd never break up with you because of them, it's not like that."

"Okay, I think I get it… no actually I don't, I'm confused. He said if this isn't me, submissive, it wouldn't work between us."

"Ah, now there's a pickle and eleven."

Fuck.

"Can you please start making sense, Nathan?"

"Sorry, I can be a bit of a tease sometimes. Daddy says it's part of my charm. He also says it's one of the reasons I get spanked so often."

Sam has no idea how Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes could possibly get 'spanked often,' but Sam bets he's good at that too—taking a spanking.

"Sorry. I'll start making sense. It boils down to the foundation of one's character. Some people just have it in them to dominate and some to submit—a nice combo when paired together. People who need to dominate, have to, people who need to submit have to; neither wants either position—no matter how many sex novels try to write Toppy subs."

"I get that much of it, Nathan."

"Good. So long as submission is _you,_ you'll _want_ to put aside your pride for him when he asks you to. Sometimes this means something you don't like, for your Sir that makes it sweeter and in that, you would feel good. Do you see? Not from the thing itself, from the submitting yourself part—likely, you'll beg and plead with him _not_ to do it," Nathan says as if that's the best thing in the world. "Let's go through an example together. What's something you've heard of 'in the scene' that just really turns you off? You've heard of it, maybe even tried it and you hated it to the point you could never get anything out of it."

Sam knows of something. He did it with a Dom once. "Mummification. I never want to do that again."

Even Nathan, Mr. I-Do-Everything, shivers at that. "I don't like it much either and I'm so much of a pleaser, I don't mind doing it once in awhile, but it's not my favorite. My point is, your Sir's not going to feel you're not 'right' for each other, just because that's something that's off the table for you—it's much different when something is going to harm you in some way. However, if you began refusing things _just_ out of 'not wanting to do them' all the time, he might wonder if the relationship is right. It's important that you're both happy. Would you really be happy knowing your Sir wasn't fulfilled? That you doing things to please him, didn't please you?"

"No, Nathan."

"You'd both be miserable," he says bending down to grab a grape with his mouth. He chews and swallows. "This relationship has to work for both of you. It can't be just you pleasing him either. If pleasing him, submitting truly doesn't fulfill you, you've got to have the courage to go, no matter how much you love him."

Whoa. That's a lot to eat for breakfast. Sam continues to watch Nathan. He really does look beautiful as he eats from his plate, he smiles the whole time, enjoying every moment.

Sam looks at his food. Part of him wants to test Cas—not eat the food, tell Cas he didn't and see what Cas says, since he did say he didn't _have_ to. Only… well it's not something that's like the mummification thing. He's just being stubborn, letting his pride get in the way. Nathan notices Sam's conflict. "Your ego has no place in your submission. Submission is about letting go."

That resonates with Sam. Sam bites his lip then he goes for it without thinking it through too much—it's a task he was asked to complete by Cas and he's doing it. He picks up a bite of the sausage he'd been eyeing (pork with apple and sage), trying to use his mouth like Nathan did. He's not near as graceful, but he gets the job done. No it's not something he wouldn't have chose for himself, but it was hard and he did it. He looks up at Nathan, proud of himself. "Well, keep going, then."

Sam does. He finishes his plate and somehow managed to avoid getting too much food on himself. Someone comes to clean him up. Sam is feeling confident. "What next, Nathan?"

The rest of the morning passes and Sam learns a lot from Nathan. He's had to do a lot of things without his hands, including learn how to undo a zipper with his mouth and a few other things that really tested Sam's patience, but he did them and he feels accomplished in a new way. He ended up earning twenty-two demerits, all of which are being given to him with a ping-pong paddle, while Sam is bent over Nathan's lap, unable to hold onto anything.

Nathan was right. Sam does not like them, but once again it's that not-like-like that seems to be Sam's happy medium.

At the end of the spanking, Nathan releases Sam's hands. "You did really well today, Sam. Thanks for being a good boy. I'm proud of you and your Sir will be too."

Sam blushes. He's happy to get a glowing report though. While Nathan did try his patience today, Sam grew miles of respect for him. He might kinda, sorta admire him. A lot. He can see why Nathan is resident mentor. He can also see why he belongs to Gabriel. He may be a good boy for Daddy, but he's full of tongue and cheek the rest of the time. It is part of his charm.

"Daddy and your Sir are coming," Nathan says excited. He's by the window.

Enthusiastic delight blooms in Sam's chest. "T-they are, Nathan?" Sam can't stop saying Nathan after everything, even though he's pretty sure the game is over.

"Yep. Come see."

Sam runs over to the window and he can see Cas and Gabriel walking up to the entryway doors. Sam's heart starts beating wildly. He feels giddy and nervous, but he wants to jump up and down like Nathan is. He refrains of course. "C'mon, let's be kneeling for them."

Nathan's boy-in-summer excitement must be catching, because Sam feels how Nathan looks. They laugh together as they race to be kneeling and waiting, before Cas and Gabriel open the door. Nathan's still nudging Sam with his elbow, trying to knock him over, when they enter; he whips his arm in quick and takes a perfect kneeling position. Sam only just achieves the demanding kneeling position Cas likes as they walk in. Sam's trying not to look up, but he's so god damn excited. Cas is home! He wants to run to him, badly. Put his arms around him and snuggle in deep.

But he remains as still as Nathan does, satisfied with how well he's holding his position. "What's with all the formality?" Gabriel says. "Come see Daddy."

Nathan's up like a shot, bounding into Gabriel's arms and wrapping his legs around him as Gabriel secures his arms under Nathan's ass. "Missed you Daddy," Nathan says burying his head into Gabriel's shoulder.

"Missed you too baby boy. Tell me all about your morning." Gabriel walks away, carrying him and listening to Nathan natter on.

Sam remains kneeling on the floor, looking at the floor in front of him… fuck, he's too shy to look at Cas. "Don't I get a fancy greeting, Beautiful Boy?"

Sam's still a bit shy, but he's up and across the entryway and lets Cas's arms secure around him.

"What's with all the tears? Did you not have a good time with Nathan?" Cas sounds sincerely worried.

"No sir. I did. A great time, I just… I missed you, Cas."

Cas holds him with that solid weight Sam is coming to depend on and Sam is full. "I missed you too, love, but don't think I'm going easy on you, that's one."

Sam has the strange thought that he wouldn't want Cas to go easy on him.

"Were you a good boy for Nathan?" He's still holding Sam and now he's running fingers in Sam's hair.

Sam hesitates too long.

"You earned spankings, didn't you?"

"A little one, sir, but I was good the whole rest of the time." Sam can see his orgasm flying away on tiny wings.

Cas leans back, to peer into Sam's hazel eyes. "I guess I'll have to talk to Nathan to get the real story." He turns Sam around to have a look at his bare ass. "Whatever the story is, I can tell you that's not nearly red enough. Come. We have to change this. Time to give you your Sir is home spanking."

Sam doesn't complain, he smiles. That much he gets—the wind changes direction and it's time to spank Sam. "Yes, sir."

Cas takes his hand this time, something he's never done when they've been like this—sure maybe sometimes in the car, or when they're lying in bed together—and Sam somehow, Sam's feeling 'wooed.' But suddenly he has a thought and he has to tug on Cas's hand. "Castiel…"

Cas looks at him, eyes severe.

"No mummification, okay?"

Cas stares at him a long time then he smiles and cups Sam's face with his strong hand. "No mummification. Not ever. Anything else?"

Sam shakes his head.

"That leaves a lot on the table, beautiful boy and I assure you, I'm very, very creative."

Oh God Fuck. That makes Sam shiver is the worst, best way. "I know, sir, but I want you to push me. I want to be challenged. I think that's why I'm… Cas, I'm gone for you." Sam knows his lessons aren't over, but he gets why Cas got him to spend some time with Nathan. Sometimes the challenge is not doing things, or doing things exactly as Sir says, or asking Sir before you do things. Not always easy, but always glorious.

Cas smiles bright as a million suns. "I'm gone for you too beautiful boy." Cas leans into kiss him. "C'mon now, you're stalling because you know you're getting a spanking. Let's go, you can tell me all about your day with Nathan—I especially want to hear about when you were naughty."


	9. Becoming Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look at that, I had this whole chapter pretty much done and I had forgotten that I did. I know I usually post 3 chapters, but this is actually 2 chapters worth, so there you go. 
> 
> Thought I should post it on its own, before it gets too long with no chapter, it's probably already been too long!

Sam's spanking included a hefty strap, which he proudly took fifty of for his Sir. "There, that's much better," Cas had said. Then Cas led him to the library where they hung out for an hour, eating snacks and Cas rubbed his feet, enjoying the way Sam squirmed on his sore ass, as he read.

"All right, enough fun," Cas says, putting Sam's feet down and standing. "Time for your meditation."

"Sir?"

"You still need to do an hour—just an hour. I'm going to help you today."

Sam knows what that means, Cas's nasty little crop. Groaning, Sam puts his book down and follows Cas who leads him to a space that Sam would call an indoor garden, except the ceiling is open; Sam feels like he's outside. Cas stops at a particular patch of grass. "Kneel for me Samuel."

Sam attempts Nathan-like grace as he sinks to his knees, but he doesn't achieve it. He spreads his toes, arches his back and sticks his chest out proud. He can still feel his ass, especially when it's resting just above his heels. "Does it hurt beautiful boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mmmm. You look so pretty when you suffer."

Sam decides to leave out that it's not that bad, only uncomfortable—after all, no need to let a sadist in on when you're not hurting enough, or they'll take that as invitation. It does make the already challenging position more challenging.

"You are ready for this challenge my love, you are not; however, ready for three hours of meditation. You will be some day."

Sam feels a bit of that embarrassed rush, at being scolded, because that was a scolding, despite its soft delivery.

"For the rest of today, we'll also practice doing as I say. Do you think you can find pleasure in that, Samuel?"

"I have been all morning, sir," Sam says with a little cheek.

"Okay. Remember that when you want to strangle me."

Strangle him? Why would Sam want to strangle him?

"No matter what happens, I want you to focus on me—that is your task," Cas explains. 

Easy. Cas is the prettiest, most fascinating thing in any room. Easy. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You will remain in position, or feel my crop and you will pay attention to me, or feel my crop. Oh, and Samuel, no talking."

The command in Cas's voice runs straight to Sam's locked up cock. Fuck. The chances of an orgasm are zero. This is not a good start.

For the first ten minutes, Sam is bolstered. He does well and sort of wishes Nathan were here to see him perform. He doesn't earn a single stroke and if his eyes weren't open, he would think Cas had left. But then, people enter the garden, a lot of fucking people and not just any people, among those people, are the King and people who look important. Cas lets loose with a sharp crop stroke. "Eyes on me."

Sam refocuses on Cas. "You endured punishment in front of my father and countless other members of the guard, if you'll recall."

Yes he recalls, but he had the pain to focus on, not just Cas. That's right, suddenly Cas has become, 'just Cas'. His thoughts distract him and earn him three more strokes with Cas's crop. Sam winces, but readjusts his position, so it's proper. "Good boy," Cas says and Sam flushes. It helps him, he can't help liking to be a 'good boy,' even though the moniker embarrasses him.

Sam is good for another five minutes, but soon, he's feeling sheepish about being stark naked, in the middle of a garden where no one else is. And he's wearing a cock cage, what will they think of him?

Whack! "Sam."

Sam focuses on Cas, harder this time. "Breathe, Baby," Cas reminds him and Sam does.

In fact, Sam focuses more on his breath than he had been, while focusing on Cas. It gets easier and easier and easier, until Sam feels relaxed again. Then Cas decides to make it harder. "Put your hands out, palms face up, beautiful boy."

Sam does as instructed and Cas places the crop across both palms. "We're going to do something fun. I'm going to go have a chat with Father and his guests, maybe even some of the other garden visitors. All the while, you'll keep your eyes on me, even if that means turning your body the other way, since I may decide to head over to the North end of the garden—we have lovely gardenias over there." Sam doubts cares about gardenias today. "I will have eyes on you at all times and I will see when you break form, but I also want you to keep track. When I return, if your number matches my number, I will reward you, after I give you the corrective strokes of course. If it's less than mine, I will double the number and enjoy punishing you in front of all these guests. If it's more, I will think you're trying to patronize me and depending on whether I am or not, will dictate what kind of spanking I give you in front of theses guests. Oh and Sam?"

Sam is wise enough not to speak.

"There is little chance your number will match mine."

Sam translates: He will be getting spanked no matter what. It's hard not to smile at Cas for that one. Disciplining Sam really is Cas's favorite thing. "Yes, sir."

"My, my and you were doing so well. I'll give you a free bee, that's one."

Fuck.

"Now, behave," Cas says, smiling devilishly. Fucker's going to make this difficult, isn't he? Yep. That's a certainty.

Sam knows he's in trouble when his arms begin to tire at the start. Sure he's strong and in shape, but training with his arms out like this, is not something he does—it's not something anyone does in their training. The anxiety builds and Sam has to breathe and shit, he's forgotten all about Cas. How many is that? Sam scans for Cas, who's only just walked away and has bee lined for his father. Two. Sam decides on two, judging by the distance and how many times Cas has likely looked over at him in that time, which means he's already at three. This game is not off to a good start, for him, for Cas, it's off to a great start though this game is swayed largely in Cas's favor.

All the games are, which Sam can't help smiling about. Somehow, that makes him think Cas is adorable.

Sam watches Cas with his father, the exertion in his arms still registers, but it's mild as he focuses on Cas. Sam never forgets that Cas is a royal, with how he carries himself, even when he's just with Sam, but there's something more stately about him when he interacts with his father and his father's friends. It's easy to see why he's the Crown Prince. Sam is proud of Cas for that, but for a moment it saddens him, saddens him, because while Cas may have, for some strange reason, become infatuated with him, Sam is just a ranch hand. As simple one at that. He's never had fancy clothes, or cars, or food, or anything really. Heck, before Cas, he'd only ever owned about eighteen books.

He's never lived in such a world, where everything is aristocratic and lavish—right down to the buttons on Cas's shirts. Would Cas someday grow bored of his ordinary fascination? And fuck, that's two more, bringing him to five demerits. He's slouched and he's shifted his hips sideways.

Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Sam's melancholy, is replaced by anger, because all those ideas are ridiculous. If Cas doesn't want him because he's a broke rancher, then screw Cas. Cas is the one that barged into his perfectly _normal_ life and ran amok in it. If Cas thinks Sam's just going to roll over and play dead because he's royalty, he can think again.

But now his posture is too tense, which throws it out of perfection and once again, he has not been focusing on Cas, for who knows how long. Better just make it an even ten. For the next seven minutes, he focuses on Cas again, but he's starting to get irritated. His arms are tired and he's not sure how much longer he can hold the crop for. Cas has forgotten all about him, he's leaving him for too long! What if he has to put the crop down? How many strokes will that cost him?

Before Sam's brain can concoct any more negativity, it's distracted by the ladies who have come to gaze upon him, or stare more like. "Oh my, this is him ladies—don't touch though, or the prince will raise Hell's fury, but gawk all you like."

What is the meaning of this? Cas would leave him here to—Sam checks and no, Cas isn't looking at him at all—to be some piece of meat for these ladies? Sam feels very self-conscious, naked and with all his get up on—his collar and chastity cage. He can't help but feel embarrassed and with that, angry at Cas. How could Cas think he was ready for this?

No problem, he can stop this at anytime he wants; get up, hand in his crop and collar, head home and never think of this place or Cas again.

But there actually is a problem. As much as Sam's brain thinks he can just walk away from this, the rest of him feels differently. That little voice inside of him, the one that likes all the depraved things Cas does to him, isn't little right now, it's screaming at him. It's all too easy for him to ignore that voice when he's terrified and doesn't want to allow someone this level of control over his person, but when he's honest with himself, he knows that this piece is the missing piece to his personality. Like a string of Christmas lights missing one bulb, this is the bulb and it lights him up.

Not to mention, of course, he's madly in love with Cas.

Fuck. Yeah. He's madly in love with Cas. Walking away wouldn't be easy for many reasons, that one is at the top.

How many is he owed now? He's likely at fifteen.

He refocuses on Cas, best he can, as the ladies talk about him.

"My is he ever pretty. How long do you think this one will last? His last slave was gone after all that fuss at the last ball."

Ball? Had Cas's last slave fucked up a ball and Cas got rid of him?

He can worry about that later, for now, he needs to find Cas, since he's completely lost track of him. He scans everywhere in front of him, but Cas is nowhere. Goddamn. He'll have to turn around, but which direction? He makes an educated guess, based on spotting one of the dignitaries who must be trailing behind, and walks on his knees to turn toward the North end of the garden, refining his posture and not letting the fucking crop, change position. How many is that? Better make it an even twenty. He's lifted when he sees Cas, who still doesn't appear to see him, but now that he's calmer, he knows that can't be true. He vows not to lose track of Cas again.

"Look ladies, such a lovely view of his bottom and it's red. Poor bunny, that looks sore."

No kidding, it _is_ sore, he wants to say, but he's not allowed to talk, which right now, Sam is grateful for—imagine how many crop strokes he'd get for mouthing off palace visitors?

"You must have been a naughty bunny to earn a spanking like that."

Sam's fists begin to ball in rage, but he catches himself before he drops the crop. She doesn't know what she's talking about, even if yes, it had been a punishment, but Cas would have spanked him either way. It's not fair for her to think that!

And sigh, what's he at now, twenty-five? He is not doing good at this, whatever it is, at all. His mediations at home are near perfect; this is a disaster. The ladies continue to gawk and make humiliating comments and Sam is both appalled and, fuck, he's aroused. He hates that he is, but he is, okay? He's aroused thinking about Cas leaving him here, in this position, which is the ultimate as far as submission goes—on his knees, holding an impossible posture, a crop extended, waiting for his master to use it on him, or fuck him, or anything really—for all to see, for all to know how that he belongs to Cas and moreover that he _wants_ to belong in this way to Cas, which Sam thinks is the most embarrassing aspect. It would almost be better if he were being forced. Almost. Though being forced in a particular way, a consensual-non-consent type way, well Sam is starting to believe that's his favorite thing.

Because does he really want to do this? Does he really want to be on display like this just for Cas? Yesterday, everything seemed so clear, but today, in this moment, he's not so sure. Right now, he's frustrated and feels like this is too much. The newness and discomfort of this task feels, just this side of too much. He wants Cas to come back. If he's back, and with him, it won't matter what's being done to him, it'll just matter that he's here—he can do this, so long as Cas his here.

The ladies, thankfully leave and by this point, Sam's arms feel like they're going to fall off. Isn't Cas coming back soon? And fuck. He's lost track of him again. This time, there's no dignitary to point the way, because Sam's looking straight at all of the dignitaries, including King Michael and there's no Cas. Sam's heart sinks. He's terrible at this. He's not a sub at all and therefore, as much as he loves Cas, they're just not a match. Sure he enjoys what he's done at the sex houses, before Cas, but then he gets to go home and not have to follow someone's rules. Maybe that's all he needs?

"He's to your right, at the Eastside of the garden," a familiar voice whispers in his ear.

Sam barely stops himself from throwing his arms around Nathan, but somehow he does. Quietly and as gracefully as he can, Sam does a quarter turn and right away, sets his eyes on Cas, who is chatting with those horrible ladies and laughing with them. Probably enjoying, regaling them with tales of his naughty sub. Gabriel is with them.

"Everything is okay, Sam. Your Sir sent me over here. He bumped into Daddy and I over there and it was obvious you needed help. He thought it would be better I come and perhaps help you regain focus."

For reasons Sam doesn't know he'll ever be able to explain, that brings tears to his eyes. He can't see Nathan, but he can feel him smiling behind him. "First, breathe. Before you can focus on Castiel, you must be one with yourself."

Sam does. He breathes, practicing his yoga breathing several times and he feels a bit better, but nothing is taking away the burn in his arms, from holding the crop outstretched 'till the end of time.

"Good. Now find your sir and remember why you're here—to please him. Find pleasure in pleasing _him_. He wanted you to display yourself like this and I know you Sam, you might be freaking out right now, because you're scared—fear does funny things to people—but in truth, you want to please him, you want to do this for him."

Nathan is right. Sam let his fear over what others would think, overshadow his service to Cas. His fears have no place there, or anywhere else; they're irrational anyway. It would be different, if he were actually afraid of Cas, since that would be a rational fear, but he's not, not at all. Cas has always been wonderful to him. In addition to all that, Sam was caught up in his fear of failing Cas; he used anger and denial to push Cas away in his mind. Hell, to push away part of himself.

Sam takes one more breath for himself, as a reminder that it's okay to want this.

He focuses on Cas.

"There you go. Much better. You're here for him. What these people say, or think—whether good or bad—isn't important. What matters is your sir."

Something clicks for Sam and suddenly, everything becomes easier. His breathing evens out and becomes effortless and even the aching in his arms, eases some, not gone, just a little more in the background, too far away for it to bother Sam in any significant way and he just feels happy. Happiness that is brilliant and shiny.

"Atta boy, Sam," is the last thing that registers for Sam. Not that he can't hear and understand everything going on around him, he does, but he probably shouldn't drive a car right now, or decide whether or not he should get the doctor to make his nose look more like Brad Pitt's.

His whole body is working with the effort of the position, but he feels relaxed and soothed. A bit like he's flying. More people come and more talk about him. Some admire, some sound jealous, but none of that matters, what matters is pleasing, Sir. He follows Cas with precision and turns his body when he's supposed to—when Cas moves out of his line of vision, which is why he sees when Cas approaches and once again, his stupid body quivers like an eager puppy, especially with how Cas is smiling at him with adoration.

"Must you always look good enough to eat?" Cas stares at him, his sadistic smile beaming. "That crop must be getting awfully heavy."

Sam has not forgotten, how heavy said crop has become, even if focusing on Cas helped to lessen the ache, but since Cas reminded him of it, the feeling in his arms comes rushing back full force and he wants nothing more than for Cas to take it from him. "Tell me Sam, how many strokes did you earn with my crop? You may speak now of course."

How many did Sam earn? Sam had kind of lost count, though he's pretty sure he didn’t earn anymore since Nathan, but he'd earned plenty before that time. "Forty, I believe, Sir," Sam says. He's pretty sure that's more than, but only pretty sure. This was not his best display of obedience.

"Forty? It sounds like we have much to work on my beautiful boy. My count was fifty-two."

Sam knows this game was rigged from the start, but it doesn't stop Sam's stomach swoops, but not in an awful way. He didn't think he'd like being told he was wrong, that he'd failed so much more than he thought he had, but there's something about it hard to name, that he, well he _likes_. Being found as naughty in a way that has earned him a true correction and not a pretend one arouses him in a big fucking way.

But wasn't he just upset with that woman who accused him of naughtiness?

All Sam knows for certain are two things. One, all of this is confusing. He's not sure if he'll ever sort any of his feelings out concretely. Two, Cas somehow knows just how to push his buttons in exactly the right way, always getting him to ride that edge of like-not-like he fucking likes. A lot

"It pains me, but now I've no choice but to give you a thorough correction in front of all these people." The lust and excitement in Cas's voice is transparent. "And then I'm going to take you back to my rooms and fuck you."

As is becoming the norm, Sam can't breathe for a short moment, but then he can again. It's a wonderful feeling.

"I'm waiting, Samuel."

Right, he knows what he's supposed to say. "Please, correct me, sir. I value your correction." Sam's last four words surprise him and Cas equally. It's not part of what he was told to say, but Sam realizes, even in his semi-floaty state, that he does crave the correction, even if it fucking hurts.

Without delay, Cas begins, taking the crop from Sam and signaling that he may at long last, put his arms down. There is a moment of incredible relief.

As if Cas could read all of Sam's earlier insecurities, he begins to lecture him about them and ask him questions. "Do you look forward to being corrected Samuel?" Cas asks, laying down a sharp stroke.

Sam winces, trying to hold position. "Yes, sir."

"As you should. My strokes correct you, you learn from them and how to please me better, why should you feel bad about them?"

Whack! Whack! Whack!

"You may not have known it, but I did have my eyes on you, you weren't focused and that cost you your posture, didn't it?"

"Ah! Yes, sir."

"Say it. Tell everyone about the mistake you made today, so you'll remember always."

This is where Sam gets some of those strangling feelings, Cas warned him about. That's the last thing he wants to do. Isn't it enough he's said, yes sir?

He can tell by the firmness in Cas's posture that no, no it's not enough, and can't help the longing inside of him, to please Cas. "I didn't focus on you, sir," he says and in the saying it, a few tears come that he hadn't expected considering his attitude—though perhaps that why he had an attitude. He wishes he could go back in time and do better. "I-It's what cost me my posture."

"That's right, my love. I hope this will serve as a good reminder."

They're about thirty in. Sam feels on the edge of that float-y space, and can still feel the crop striking his body in different places, with varied intensity. He's mildly aware that he's building an audience—the garden guests come to get a closer viewing of the Prince correcting his boy.

"I told you I'd push you to your limits. If I were here, that would have been easy for you, we've done that, you've already progressed past that point, which is why this was a challenge—in public, without me."

"But I failed, I wasn't ready."

"That depends, my love, on how you define failure. If it was to execute the task perfectly, then yes, you failed. Even if it was to execute the task well, then yes, you failed there too."

All Sam hears is disappointment.

"But I did not set either of those parameters. Your task was to attempt this challenge as a training exercise, that you did beautifully. Perfectly? No. Well? No. To the best of your current abilities? Absolutely. I know where you're at and that the only way to condition you further, is to push you just beyond where you _can_. Only in this way will we bring your submission to a new level. If we always remain where you are comfortable, you won't grow—you must be pushed past your comfort zones."

Sam thinks on that and knows Cas is right. Just like that muscle conditioning analogy, it's the same with the muscles in your mind. They need to be stretched in order to gain more strength and Sam, now that he's not freaking out, and has come to the other side of this lesson, and can see that.

"Besides, sometimes I might want to leave you somewhere for others to enjoy. You will do it because it pleases me."

Oh god. Sam's dick tries to harden, stopped by the stupid cage.

"On your hands and knees; show everyone that gorgeous ass, while I redden it some more."

Yep, he does feel like he wants to strangle Cas for that one, and with the smile Cas is giving him, it's a mission accomplished for him—this is the very thing Cas is talking about, pushing Sam to where he feels like telling Cas to stuff it, but doing it anyway.

Sam goes down to his hands and knees.

"Hmmm, not quite the vision I want, I'm afraid you'll have to press your chest to the grass, arms over your head."

Sam moves to obey, but it's easy to tell he's annoyed, so Cas pushes him further. "Ah, ah, ah, what do you say to me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam says through grit teeth.

"Good boy," Cas says, this time to patronize him.

Before Sam can get up to give Cas a piece of his mind, Cas starts in on his ass, with hard strokes that light him on fire, every bit of him. And while he's burning hot, his temper is cooled, that place inside of him being reached in the very best way, the exact way he needs. Cas's authority connects perfectly with that submissive part inside him and makes it pour out instinctively and Cas makes Sam his.

When Cas has finished correcting him, his body hurts all over from both the punishment and holding position for so long. Cas tells him he can get up now, and when he does, he sees how many people were watching him. They all applaud him, every single one, he sees Nathan in front, kneeling and looking on at him with pride. "Look how much they loved seeing you suffer. You do it so wonderfully," Cas tells him.

He does? "Thank you, sir, for correcting me," Sam remembers to say. Cas smiles.

"Come." Cas helps him up, he's a little wobbly, but he's happy to lean into Cas at this moment.

Cas leads him away from his adoring fans in a rushed frenzy. When Cas gets Sam back to his rooms, he sees why: Cas _needs_ to fuck him. It's gone beyond mere want, to a need that is coursing through Cas, and radiating off him. "That was so hot, Baby. Fuck."

Like something wild has gripped him, Cas tosses Sam over one of his spanking benches, lubes Sam up good and without removing his clothes, only opening his slacks and pulling his underthings down just enough, he slowly fucks into Sam, opening him up with his cock. Not that Sam needs much prep, they fuck so much, he feels himself give way easily and before long, Cas is slamming into him. "You feel so good. How can one hole feel so good?"

Sam smiles, feeling like he has some kind of super power. Sam's also proud of the way he can take Cas's cock, knowing he won't be coming. He doesn't ask, or beg, just tells Cas how good he feels inside him, because he does. He loves being filled with Cas and how Cas just takes him over.

"What if everyone were here? All those people, watching me fuck your sweet ass, owning you? Making you mine?"

Did Sam say he wasn't going to beg? He feels like begging.

"You'd like it. You deny you like that kind of thing, but you do. You'd look magnificent, all the world marveling at your beauty. All the while, you'd focus on me, not them. You'd be focused on how much you need to please me, want to please me and oh, Sam, that riles me more than I have words to tell you."

Cas is releasing into him, moaning long and satisfied, as sweat drips from Sam and his body aches with pain, want, desire, lust—so many things that might make someone else miserable, but for Sam, it's his Zen.

Cas runs a bath for him, then sinks Sam into the hot water, which feels pleasant on his tortured skin. Cas, removes his clothes and joins Sam, who has already sunk into the luxuriousness of the bath, leaning his head back and enjoying the buzz that's running through his body.

"So?"

Sam cracks an eye, he didn't realize he'd closed them. "Soooo?"

"Any revelations?"

Sometimes Sam needs time to process things like what just happened, but this one is pretty straightforward. "I did something out of my comfort zone and nothing bad happened to me."

"Indeed. Anything else?"

"It boiled down to trust and letting go. I had to let go, to surrender to the experience, me analyzing every little thing was ruining it for me and through it, we reached a new level of trust, but we could only get there by me taking a leap and deciding to trust you without really knowing if I could. A bit like a test."

Cas smiles in the way that Sam knows means Good Boy and not to patronize him, or to pull more out of him, but simply to let Sam feel his pride. "I daresay you were riding the edges of subspace too."

Was he? That's never happened to Sam before and he didn't think it ever would. But now that he thinks back on it, maybe he was. "But, wouldn't I have known?"

"Sometimes, a sub only realizes after the fact, like when you're in a dream and you only realize when you wake up that you were dreaming. Though, I have had subs tell me they knew during, also similar to one of those dreams, where you realized you're in a dream at one point. There are many ways for a sub to experience subspace—it's different for everyone."

Sam remembers the first time he and Dean decided to get drunk. Sam was eight and Dean was twelve and they had got hold of a six-pack of beer. Neither of them had drunk anything before, so they didn't know what it felt like to be drunk. They kept drinking beer, asking the other, if they "felt anything yet." Since they kept answering no, mostly because they didn't really know what they were supposed to be feeling. It wasn't until the next day they realized how tipsy they had been and the next time they drank together, Sam could tell right away when the booze was kicking in.

"But I knew what was going on the whole time. I could hear everyone."

"Why wouldn't you?"

Sam had seen many a sub in subspace and most of the ones he saw seemed faraway and not really there. He assumed that meant they were hypnotized, or something.

"Just because you're in subspace, it doesn't mean you're not aware of your surroundings, or unable to speak and answer questions. Like I said, there are many versions, for some, it's simply a state of mind, or a specific energy. I've known some very masculine females, to describe their subspace as stepping into their feminine, not because subspace is necessarily feminine, but because it's simply a state that's different from their usual. Though yes, I have known subs who go so far away, they are virtually unresponsive unless heavily coaxed to answer a question."

Huh. Well, then. Maybe he had been there. All Sam knows is he wants to do whatever they did again. The connection he felt to Cas was amazing, the connection he felt to himself was amazing. It's resulted in the level of contentment he feels right now.

"Thank you, sir," Sam says, biting his lip, suddenly shy.

"No beautiful boy, thank you."

**

Over the next week, Cas ups Sam's training. Sam's worked hard with no promise of an orgasm in sight. 'No orgasm' has become so normal, he doesn't know how he'd handle the news of being allowed an orgasm. So it's probably better Cas doesn't tell him.

Cas has him tied naked to… a chair? No, it's not a chair, it's not even a bench, or a couch, or fuck, a stool. It's some weird, mutant bench-chair. His bare, well-spanked ass (Cas doesn't like it when his cheeks have no color) is nestled on hard plastic that is the perfect shape of his gluteals. The widest part of his lats are supported by more hard plastic that also seems to be shaped to fit that exact part of his back and is angled upward from the first plastic platform, but nothing supports his upper spine and he's extended off the back—it's a good thing he's nicely flexible from all the work he does on his body. Sam's wrists are tied, such that he can move them freely, in effort to at least attempt to stop Cas, but there isn't enough slack to reach him and stop the torture he's inflicting.

"Mmmmm, beautiful boy, do you know how delicious you look right now?"

"No, sir. Mmmph, please. Please, sir."

"Shame. You should see." Cas uses lots of lube to stroke Sam's cock, which is arched up at the perfect angle, there's plenty of give for him to writhe and squirm. "I don’t remember asking you to beg though."

"S-sorry, sir." Sam is tired from the controlled effort he has to use to keep his orgasm in check—he's not some fucking newbie—he can do this. But when Cas pours yet more lube and starts another round of slow strokes, Sam isn't sure. "I, I, I'm gonna… Sir!"

Cas pulls off again as Sam breathes heavily. His cock is hard and leaking and has been for who knows how long. Cas has been giving him a workout, keeping him on edge, riding the tip of an orgasm. It's the most beautiful torture. It's hard enough to look at Cas, through the ordeal. He's got his trench coat off, the white sleeves of his button down rolled up; enough buttons undone, Sam can see the creamy skin of his chest beneath. His black slacks have never looked crisper.

Tears roll down Sam's face with the strained effort of holding his orgasm back. He fights, arms move wildly as he once again tries to stop Cas's hand going to his cock. It's a reflexive action only, because Cas's hand on his cock feels good, he's just not sure how much longer he can hold back. He's not afraid of Cas. If he orgasms without permission, he _will_ be punished of course, that goes without saying, but he _wants_ to do this because, can you imagine the look of pride on Cas's face?

"Shhh, shhh, shhh." Cas hushes him, taking his hand off Sam's cock at just the right time (how does he always know?) and using it to smear lube all over his naked skin making sure to play with his nipples. Then Cas gets a devilish look in his eyes with a wide, wicked smile. Then he gets up and settles himself between Sam's legs.

"No, Cas, please no! I can't… I won't… I'll come in your mouth." And it won't take long either.

"So? Come in my mouth then, beautiful boy." Cas shrugs and carries on to Sam's crotch.

Did he hear him right? Did Cas just say? No, he couldn't have heard right. Cas is a fucking sadist who would love nothing more than to torture Sam while swallowing his cock and hearing his screams. Sam wants to give Cas that pleasure. "O-Okay, I can do it sir." He already forgot one Sir. "I can hold back for you."

"I know you can, but right now, you're going to come in my mouth."

There's no mistake there. And Cas is right, Sam's going to come in Cas's mouth, because even if he wanted to hold back, what Cas does with his tongue seals the deal. Sam wrenches his body into an arch rainbows would be jealous of and lets out a cry filled with pleasure and holy fuck.

It's got to be the best orgasm he's ever had and that includes the last one Cas gave him, which was forever ago. He wants to return the favor. "Sir, may I, will you let me suck your cock?"

Cas takes his time unbinding Sam. "Not just now. This was for you my love. I would like you to come bathe with me."

Sam sits up, rubbing his wrists, which are nicely reddened from straining for however long Cas was edging him. "I'd love that, sir," Sam says feeling shy—it's ridiculous for him to feel shy after all he's done with Cas, but he does. Often. Cas pulls him up and into a kiss, letting his hands roam along the planes of Sam's body down to his searing ass. He's in nothing but his collar.

"C'mon then, let's go."

Sam is excited, an excitement that's well and above the aches in his body from the afternoon session with Cas. He gets to bathe with Cas and Cas will be naked. All the way naked. Cas is careful to leave pieces of clothing on when they do things, making even nakedness something for Sam to look forward to. Cas seems to know how to make everything a sensual experience.

The bathing room gets a special buzz when they see the crown prince has come to bathe. They don't have to stop and prostrate, but they do give him a respectful bow of the head. Sam walks proudly beside him, his hands bound behind his back, with nothing but Cas's command for them to be so. "Someday I'd like to have you on my leash and parade you around so all can see that you're mine and submit to me," Cas whispers into his ear as they walk.

Sam gets a shiver, one that goes straight to his cock and he knows he's in trouble, since he's certain his next orgasm won't be 'till next year. It's a warm thought, that means he'd be with Cas next year. "Th-That's what you'd like me at for the ball, sir? I-If I were to sit by your side and represent you."

Cas looks a sharp eye to him as they continue walking to the station where Cas will hang his clothes. "I would like that, yes Samuel. You'd look so amazing, but you're nowhere near ready for this one, perhaps the next ball."

Sam is irritated. Who does Cas think he is, telling him he's not ready? Maybe he is. He hasn't forgotten what he heard the ladies chat about in the garden, about a sub Cas got rid of after a ball, but there just hasn't been a good time to ask about it. "You don't know everything, Cas."

"You're not and that's a spanking for that amount of back talk. If this is how you're going to behave after orgasms, you're not going to get them."

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but he's frustrated. "Yes, sir. But sir, I've been working hard, I feel like nothing is good enough."

"You don’t do you? Ask me how long it took my last sub to earn his first orgasm?"

"How long, sir?"

"Five months and you've already had two. I'd say you've been a very good boy. Lucky for me, your behavior still requires work. Remove my belt with your teeth and beg me to correct you with it."

Sam does in front of everyone in the bathing room, feeling ashamed for mouthing Cas off, but finding solace in Cas's delight over punishing him as well as the punishment itself. Things like this are much easier since the day in the garden. "Thank you for correcting me, sir," Sam says with tears when his bottom is burning and pulls him up for more kisses.

They smile together. "You're lucky I like spanking you so much," Cas says. "I'm still going to allow you to undress me."

Sam takes his time. He's had a few more lessons with Nathan who's been hard on him—Sam has come to appreciate the strict instruction. He wants to do well for Cas, make him proud, give him pleasure. And it's interesting, in the beginning, all he could think about was how much _he_ would get out of the deal (an orgasm, library time), now, he's more apt to wonder how much Cas will smile, or groan with pleasure, or shower him with praise. It's like _that's_ become his kink.

He's still nowhere near what Nathan can do, but Sam knows he's improved.

Sam enjoys the view once he's done. "Do you like looking at me, Samuel?"

"I do, sir. You call me beautiful, but you are."

Cas smiles, knowing it as he heads into the water. Sam knows to follow, with his hands still held behind his back, since he's not been given leave to release them yet. He is a little worried, if he's expected to wash Cas, he really doesn't want to have to do so with his mouth. He'll gladly lick Cas anywhere he wants, but he doesn't want to eat soap. "Problem, Samuel?"

Cas knows damn well there's a problem.

"My hands, sir. How will I wash you?"

It's silly right? It has to be, Sam _knows_ it's silly, because _nothing_ , nothing at all is holding Sam's hands behind his back, except Cas's request. Hands behind your back, Samuel, 'till I tell you otherwise...might not be for days… Cas gives him a look of mock concern. "That is a pickle. Well let's go through our options, shall we?"

This is never good.

"There's always option one, which I'm sure you've already thought of and are currently dreading; you can scrub me down with a bar of soap in your mouth, or lick soap around my body with your tongue. You wouldn't like it, you don't _want_ to do it for me, but I know you'd do it for me."

Dammit! Yeah. Sam would. As bitter as soap is, it's really not that bad. It burns a bit and it's yucky, but it's no deal breaker. There's no way Cas would let him ingest enough to harm himself. If that's what Cas asks, he's going to do it, he just really hopes Cas doesn’t ask. "Yes, sir."

Cas's smile brightens. "Lucky for you, there are options two and three. I'm not sure which of the three I want yet, to be honest. Because I pick, not you."

Sam has to bite his lip and squeeze his nuts. Cas is fucking hot when he goes all big, bad and alpha. Sam can't get enough. "Option two is, you lick me down with that naughty tongue of yours, before I wash and rinse myself. Because in none of these options do you get your hands Samuel."

 _Fuck._ Sam wishes he had his cock cage. He has nothing now though. Not even his collar, which was removed after his spanking.

"Yes, sir."

"Then there is option three. You don't wash me at all. You watch me wash myself and I give you a nice sensual cleaning afterward."

Sam is horrified. "That is so completely unfair. Sir." Crap. You never let onto a sadist what you don't want, else the chances of them doing the thing you don't want increase exponentially.

Cas's eyes get wicked. "Aw, pouty boy. I'll make you a deal. Be good and I won't make you watch with a bar of soap in your mouth."

Sam scowls, which increases Cas's enjoyment. "Let's set you up for best viewing. Come."

Sam wades behind Cas, seething. He doesn't even get to touch Cas? Cas is enjoying his pout session too much. At least there's that. "You're adorable when you get cross with me. It's still one for no appellation, twice."

At least Sam gets to watch Cas's gorgeous bottom squeeze as he walks. _He would have liked to use his tongue in that bottom._ "Up here," Cas says but Sam's not listening, he's feeling sorry for himself. "Hey." Cas turns his chin up with his fingers and pushes Sam's long hair aside. Cas has complained that when Sam lowers his head, he can't see Sam's face and that's unacceptable. "Someday, I will earn your trust, beautiful boy."

"But I do—"

"—no, not nearly enough, but someday. C'mon, up, I'll help you."

Sam jumps, feeling very Dirty Dancing when Cas lifts him from his waist. Not that Cas needed the help to lift him, but Sam wants to help anyway. "Spread your legs, very nice, but one thing is missing; this cock is too soft Baby Bear."

Sam laughs in spite of his predicament, which is not touching Cas if anyone wanted to know. "Did you just make a Goldilocks and the Three Bear's joke, sir?"

"Maybe," he says leaning in to swipe his tongue along Sam's groin.

Sam hisses. "It was Mama bear's bed that was too soft."

"Well you're not my mama bear, so you'll have to deal with a bit of inaccuracy. Especially since Baby Bear's stuff is always just right."

Okay. Sam's finding it hard to stay upset and yeah, he's also getting hard. "With you doing that sir, maybe I'm Papa bear—ugh!"

"I'm Papa bear. I'm always Papa bear." Cas sucks down his cock, for the second time in the span of an hour, but this time, he pops off way too soon. "Stay there."

The water is shallow where they are. Enough, Sam can see all of Cas, right to mid-calve. He signals to an attendant, who brings him a tray of items, which Sam tries to look at. "Uh, uh. Eyes to me, Samuel. You're going to keep your eyes on me the whole time. Stuff is going to happen around you, people coming, going, doing interesting things, but where will your eyes be?"

"On you, sir."

"Good boy."

There it is. The praise that makes him tingle with embarrassment and he craves it all the same.

It wouldn't be a hard task to perform, Cas is the most interesting thing in any room (and he's naked to boot), but Sam senses that Cas isn't going to make it easy, like for instance, what the hell is on that tray? It's right fucking beside him. All he has to do it look in his periphery and…

"For disobeying me you can close your eyes, while I wash my chest. When I say eyes on me, I mean eyes on me; not find loopholes. Disobey me again and I won't let you watch me wash my cock."

Sam blushes, chagrined and well-scolded. "Yes, sir. I can do better, sir." He closes his eyes.

"It's a shame you can't see me. What's on my chest that you like to suck?"

"Your n-nipples, sir."

"A bit louder, you want everyone to hear don't you?"

Sam can hear the smile in Cas's voice. "I like sucking your nipples, sir." Sam's proud of how sure he sounds when he says it and hopes he's earned having his eyes open again.

"All right, I'm done. You may open. You going to behave now?"

"Yes, sir." Sam is careful to focus on Cas now and not for whatever he's reaching for. It ends up being a loofa. A big, peach loofa. Cas soaps it up.

"You know, Baby, you can't see them, because you're looking at me, but I've got a lot of eyes on me. I'd say they liked my nipple washing, maybe you'll get to see next time too."

They're all the right words to grate on Sam's nerves and make his cock ache. Cas denying him like that, taunting him with a sensual edge that's got some castigation blended in for good measure is the right recipe to turn Sam on. More. He's been turned on since Cas told him to remove Cas's belt with his teeth. It gets worse as Sam watches Cas do some more washing. Cas makes a point of bending over to wash his legs, lathering up the hair on them and showing Sam (and everyone else) his entrance. It gets harder for Sam not to look away. Cas is so fucking sexy. He's grateful when Cas stands up and works on his arms, armpits, neck and abs, because it's not quite Cas's ass, but Cas starts singing _It Ain't Gonna Rain No More_ and Sam laughs. Cas can be pretty adorable too.

Cas wades over to a deeper section of the bath, that's still in Sam's view (he's being diligent about keeping his glued to Cas) and he ducks backward to submerge his head and wet his luscious dark hair. He comes up all wet and doused and wonderful then wades over to where Sam is to nestle in between his legs again. At this point, Sam realizes, as much as Sam is on display, so is Cas. They're a two-man show. He can't see the eyes looking at _his_ man, but he knows they're looking—who in their right mind wouldn't? "You are making me very horny, Samuel," he says before he sucks one of Sam's balls into his mouth.

"C-Cas!"

"Two. And I was wrong, you can help me with something, open your mouth."

Fuck, it's the soap isn't it? It's not. Not a bar of soap anyway, but it's a soft tube of shampoo, thin enough to fit in Sam's mouth. Cas pops the cap for him. "Shampoo me, Baby."

Sam uses his mouth to squeeze shampoo into Cas's hair, Cas take the tube from him before he massages it into his scalp. "I'm missing my boy's big hands," Cas says.

"Your boy is right here, sir, please. I could—"

"—three. I'm starting to think you want another spanking. Hush now, I'm getting ready for my big finish." It is a big finish. Cas gives his penis extra-special care, cradling his balls as he washes them, stoking his cock far longer than necessary before he rinses. Sam watches intently, squirming, working to not come (how the fuck is this making him want to come? He's just washing himself for Christ's sake.)

When Cas is all washed and rinsed he approaches Sam like he's prey and helps him back into the water. "There's still one place that isn't clean I want your help with, Samuel."

"Yeah? Sir," he adds.

Sam has brains enough to guess when Cas starts lathering his cock with soap. "Sir, but… Sir."

"Make it good for me, Baby. I want them to hear you, while you focus on nothing but me, fucking me."

Sam doesn't need to ask to know he's not coming at the end of this journey and he's never been allowed to fuck Cas yet—how the hell is he going to do this? Cas reaches behind him to the tray, Sam keeps his eyes on Cas, but he wants to fucking look. He's never been happier to see the leather cock-ring. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for having mercy."

"It will be fun torturing you someday by allowing you to fuck me without one of these, but you're not ready. I'll only give you the challenges you're ready for, beautiful boy." Sam is starting to believe him. Cas secures the ring around the base of his cock. "Enter me slow, but you don't have to be too careful—perks of angel healing powers."

"Yes, sir." Now that he's got a safety net, he's excited. He gets to sink his cock into Cas, it's like, Christmas and his birthday all at once. Better than any of that, he's putting his claim on Cas right here in front of all these people who are no doubt watching. He can feel their eyes, even if he can't look to see them. Cas leans over the side of the bath, lewdly spreading his thick legs, still commanding presence.

"Come fuck me, Baby."

Sam lines his cock up with Cas's hole, which isn't easy without hands and the soap is slippery. It takes a few tries and a couple of different kinds of maneuvering, but he enters him slow like Cas said and when he's sunk to the hilt, he takes a moment to enjoy having his cock surrounded by Cas. "I want to feel you at dinner."

Sam can do that.

All starts good, but it becomes harder to concentrate when he hears commentary. "Wow, the prince has got himself a real stud," "Fuck Prince Castiel looks sexy like that," "look how red that ass is—someone's been a naughty boy." None of it's said in a mean fashion, Sam's learned that around here, all sexy stuffs are look upon with supreme appreciation, but it's still distracting and abashing and he can't help his drifting mind. "Me, baby. Focus on me, yeah, there you go. They're so jealous, listen. We make a fine pair—they wish they were us."

Sam likes that, more than he has words to say, he likes, no he fucking loves hearing all things him and Cas. He fucks Cas harder, making certain Cas will feel him later, putting all his effort into pleasing Cas. Screw everyone else, they don't matter, not like pleasing his Sir does. Too soon, Cas stops him. "I don't want to come yet and we've still got to wash you."

The next task is harder still. Cas bends him over the side of the pool to lube Sam up generously then sits in one of the seats carved into the pool; he slides Sam onto his cock. Sam has to endure a sensual washing, as promised, sitting on Cas's huge cock, merciless nipple stimulation and more stroking of Sam's cock, only now he can see everyone looking at him—he can't see Cas at all. "I know it's hard, Samuel, but focus on me."

"I am, sir. I want to please you."

"You do, so much. Look—they love you."

With Cas's permission, he does look at the sea of faces. Sure, they're making a decent effort at pretending they're bathing, but a blind monkey could see what they're really doing. "That's right, they're all watching, enjoying you sitting on my cock while I play with you, but you love it, submitting to me, showing them you're mine?"

Sam does. He really fucking does. Nothing erases the humiliation, or the shyness and that's what makes it thrilling. "Y-Yes, sir. Please can you…?" Sam wants a mark, something he can show off long when this moment is gone.

"Oh Samuel, now that, I'm happy to do."

**

"Sammy? There you are. You mind settin' the table for dinner? Benny's in a mood and I'd rather not ask him."

"Sure, Dean," Sam sighs. It's not an exhausted sigh, it's one of pure contentment. He can feel every mark Cas embossed onto his skin as he moves, he's especially fond of the one on his neck, just below his collar. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles wrap around him like a hand around a mug of hot chocolate, the cage on his cock reminds him he's got restrictions, someone to obey, to answer too and the stiff, supple collar around his neck shows everyone else that someone else owns him and he's happy that they do.

"You have fun with Cas?"

"Sir and I had a great day," Sam says. He obeys some things far better when Cas isn't around—it's only fun to ride the edge of obedience-disobedience when Cas can see and maybe spank him for it anyway. Ha, there's no maybe about it, is there? Cas spanks him often; Sam would find it strange if he didn't.

"Sir? He's not even here. I didn't take you for a goodie-good, Sammy."

Sam shoots a dark look his way. "Shut up, Dean."

"Shhh, not so loud—I told you, Benny's in a mood, he'll spank us both and ask questions later."

"What did you do?"

"Nothin'. Why's it always me that does somethin'? Can't someone just have a bad day?"

"Yeah, someone can, but not when it's you and Benny."

"Okay, fine. I pissed him off—since when do I gotta tell you all my marital problems?"

Since never. Dean always does that voluntarily, whether Sam wants the info or not, so why's he being so secretive now? Sam squints at him. "Everything okay, Dean?"

"It's fine, just maybe cover up some of those marks. Benny won't want to see it just now."

Now things are really weird. "Dean."

"Look, it involves a sex idea I had with a vacuum cleaner and a set of women's panties, you sure you still wanna hear?"

"Ugh, no way. Sorry I pried."

Benny does enter the kitchen eventually and he is a lot quieter than usual—Sam's glad he took Dean's advice about covering the large hickey on his arm and put on a flannel. Benny's a lot more strict with Dean than usual, "Eat, then find a corner in our room, then spanking then bed, Sam and I will do the dishes," and Dean's a lot more obedient than usual, "Yes, sir."

What the hell did Dean do with the vacuum cleaner and women's pantyhose to make Benny that mad? Whatever it is, he's glad not to be Dean just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, probably most authors would have taken the opportunity to write about "sub-drop" here, which yes, would have fit rather nicely into this chapter. But for some reason, (thus far anyway) my muse just doesn't seem to want to write about it. FWIW, I don't enjoy reading about it either tbh. I'm not trying to down play the importance of the topic, it's just not a topic I'm that interested in at this time, I suppose.... so yeah. I'm sorry I didn't write about it, but hopefully all the kinky stuff distracted you!


	10. The Dinner Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Mock's kinky little brain. ;) 
> 
> I have decided I'm going to do some communication on Tumblr when it's been too long between updates, so come find me [Here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/deadmockingbirds1) if you wanna know. 
> 
> I've been getting so many kind messages of people wondering where I've been, how I've been and what/when I'm gonna update. 
> 
> How I've been? Well that's a bit complicated and it is tied to updating. Suffice to say I am okay, but it's been some more rough days for me. This means my muse wants to do whatever the fuck it wants, so while I am writing, I'm sometimes not writing the stories people want to see updates for. I'm sorry for that, but I don't have much control. I want the chapters for my stories to be good and make sense, if that means I gotta wait for them a little, I will. Believe me, I want to be able to "read" what's gonna happen next as much as you do. For now, know that you will get some updates, but there may be waits for particular stories. I sadly can't say a "when" or "what" at this point in time. 
> 
> But I was able to finish this story! Yay! There is a new tag, but it doesn't apply until chapter 12, and I'll tell you about it then. So for now, sit back, relax and enjoy some porn and mayhem.

During the Day (of the events of last chapter)

Like bad all ideas, it _seemed_ like a good idea at the time. It was something Dean said often and early on in their relationship, Benny caught onto this turn of phrase, which is why he broke down the world for Dean into; good idea, bad idea, worse idea and worst idea. When Benny shook his head and said, "Dean, that's a bad idea," Dean knew he shouldn't do it, but the trouble he'd be in if he did do it, would be mild. Sometimes Benny simply told Dean this fondly and Dean knew Benny hoped he would disobey for a funishment-type spanking. When Benny told Dean, "that's a worse idea," grammatically incorrect as it might be, not being compared to anything per se, Dean knew, paired with one of Benny's stern looks as it was that he'd catch it pretty decent if he went ahead with his 'worse' idea. But when Benny said, "Dean, that is the _worst_ idea," and was usually paired with, "do that and you're in serious trouble," Dean knew to stay far away from that idea. Millions of miles away from that idea. Continents away from that idea.

Contrary to popular belief, Dean didn't engage in the bad ideas just to be a brat, okay, well maybe sometimes, let's be honest, but not always. If he did go against Benny's good advice it was because he didn't agree with that advice. But cutting right to it, if Dean thought Benny was wrong about one of his worst ideas, he wouldn't do it, unless the consequences in not doing it, were more grave than the doing of it.

Such was the case the morning Dean got the worst idea ever.

DEAN

Sam prances off (yeah, fucking _prances_ off) to Cas's place as is becoming usual and Dean serves Benny more breakfast, also usual, but today, Dean has an idea and he's sure it's a _good one_ , which is unusual. He can't wait to tell Benny. When he's sure Sam's out of sight, he pushes Benny's plate to the side, which no, does not please Benny to begin with, and slams a newspaper down in front of him.

They've been doing some research, trying to come up with a way to stop Crowley, to no avail. Somehow, he keeps snapping pictures of Sam and Cas is the most compromising of positions, which sure, some of it's public anyway (and some of it's not) but the articles he writes, Dean knows Sam would hate. And even if Sam didn't, Dean and Benny do and that's enough cause for them to murder Crowley.

"You better have a good reason for interruptin' my breakfast, Cher."

"I do! Check that out." Dean points to the area circled in red.

"I'm guessing this has to do with Crowley, but I don't see what the 'help wanted' ads have to do with him."

"Oh c'mon, read it Ben."

Benny reads out loud. " _Cleaning Lady Wanted: The apartment's small, so I'm not paying you much. Must be attractive and good with not irritating the fuck out of me. Must bring own equipment._ When did the newspaper start printing the word fuck?"

"I don't know, but I know no one's going to respond to that add, except us. Read the name."

"Contact… Fergus Macleod?"

"Yeah and we're gonna be his cleaning company! It'll be perfect. We'll gain access and steal all his shit."

"You mean just his stuff on Sam."

"It couldn't hurt to have a little extra blackmail on the guy."

Benny stares at him then folds up the paper. "No. This is a bad idea. We'll have to find some other way."

"We've come up with diddly squat Ben. This is our only way."

"How would we get a woman to apply and steal for us anyway?"

Poor sweet Benny. He really doesn't see it coming, does he? "Get a woman? No. We'll be the women. I figure it's best if we both apply, in case one of us doesn't get hired."

With the way Benny's looking at Dean, Dean knows Benny cannot believe what he's hearing. "In that case, double no. That is a worse idea Dean."

Dean winces, knowing what that means; yes it's paired with a stern look Dean knows not to fuck with. "I already bought us costumes though, you're not thinking this through. Let's just give it a shot. Worse comes to worse, he figures us out and runs a story on us. Could you imagine? Us in pantyhose on the front page?"

"You're right, Dean, you're right. I'm not thinking this through and now that I am, I'm sure, this is the _worst_ idea. Ever."

"Ben, if you'll just—"

"No. This is not up for discussion. I expect you to shelve this idea forever, or you can expect my belt on your ass every night before bed for a week."

Dean does a low whistle in his head, that's a hefty fine, but Benny's not getting it. "But Ben—"

Benny slides his chair out. "I see you want to have this conversation over my knee, so we will then."

"Okay, I'm sor—"

Dean's not cut off by anything physical, but by the sheer force of Benny's stare. He's not fucking around and Dean's getting a warning spanking, which isn't that much different from a he's misbehaved spanking. Dean pouts his way over, pissed that Benny won't see reason and pissed that he's getting spanked for no reason. He hasn't done anything yet! But he knows Benny well and he knows, sometimes Benny thinks Dean needs a reminder to behave – an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure and all that.

Benny unbuttons Dean's jeans, yanking them down with his boxers, fucking succinctly, then over Benny's lap he goes. There's no warm up, or introduction, Benny's using his sharpest smacks to get his point across for what feels like forever and Dean's complaining good. "Ow Ben, wouldja ease u-ow! Ow! Ow! That hurts!"

He even continues right on spanking Dean through the lecture. "When I say no, I mean no and you'll obey me, or this is just a taste of what you'll get."

It doesn't happen very often anymore, but Benny's been spanking him so long without a break, Dean has to throw his hand back. That's saying something, for a seasoned spankee, like Dean. Benny easily grabs his hand. "Yes, sir. _Yes,_ sir!"

"You know better. When I say the discussion is closed, it's closed. I don't take kindly to backtalk."

"I know, I shoulda kept my mouth shut." It's really starting to sting now, almost more than Dean can handle, he has to kick his legs.

Benny keeps right on spanking. "That's not what I'm waitin' on hearin'. I want your word Dean."

"This isn't fair! If I give you my word, it's by force," he says, still kicking which is doing fuckall.

"'Course it's by force."

Benny's really not gonna let up. Normally, even if Dean doesn't agree with Benny on a big idea of his, he'll concede to Benny's authority, but this one's hard because it's for Sam and Dean really believes it's their only chance. The frustration rather than the pain, is what brings the tears. "Okay Ben. Okay. I w-won't do it."

Benny stops and gives Dean's swollen bottom a rub that feels oh so good. "I'm takin' that as your word, Cher," he says thankfully ending the spanking there.

He stands Dean up and Dean _has_ to rub. "That was an awful spanking, Ben," he complains.

Benny helps him rub his bum, but he's still not smiling. "What you wanna do is too risky. He'll find out. You're pretty, but you'd never pass for a woman, Cher."

Dean isn't convinced and Benny knows it. "Take these off," he says already bending to help Dean step out of the pants and boxers at his feet. "If you want to be a cleaning lady so bad, you can stay inside today and be my cleaning lady."

"With my dick hanging out?"

Benny nods in a way that says he doesn't want to hear complaining and Dean looks to his feet. "I hope it reminds you of who makes the rules and who follows them."

Benny sends him off with a hefty swat on an already sore bottom. "Well for the record, I prefer cleaning _person_ ," Dean shouts after him.

When Benny doesn't laugh, Dean knows Benny's not in a mood to be trifled with, and yeah, it took him this long, even though every sign was there from the moment he began with his idea, which is still genius if you ask him.

All morning he tries. He tries to get the idea out of his head by coming up with another plan, while at the same time, hating the off-put feeling between him and Benny.

He also hates knowing he has a sure fire way to help Sam and instead of doing it, he's cleaning the house with a sore ass, half-naked, his wang blowing in the breeze. Benny'll be watching him now; one, because Benny loves his cute little spanked tush and two, because Benny knows when it's about Sam, Dean loses his head.

Dean resigns himself to cleaning, but it's only two hours into the morning, he can't believe his eyes when he sees Benny is passed out on the couch. Dean doesn't waste time thinking about it, he grabs the vacuum (the ad said to bring your own supplies) and his lady outfit (which includes black pantyhose), and he's gone.

~Several Nights After The Pantyhose Incident: *Sam*~

"Tonight we're going to host a small dinner party—just some friends of mine and Gabriel's. Nathan will be there too."

Cas knows how much Sam likes Nathan.

Sam's come far in his training, but as much as he's argued the point with Cas (paying dearly for it each time, whether it be a spanking, loss of library privileges, or some other kind of Cas brand of sadism) he's realized that no, he's not ready to represent Cas at the ball, which is fast approaching. Having had enough of Sam's arguing and tantrums, Cas allowed him to, as he put it, _hang himself with his own rope_ , by taking him out with him to the public markets. Sam thought he'd be fine. Cas hasn't been shy about taking him whenever, wherever at the palace, he's taken to stopping by the bookstore and giving him plenty of bare-bottomed corner time (which Mr. Evil Boss is furious about, only because it's on company time) which also means plenty of public spankings.

Sam felt he'd been doing well on the public submission front; he _knows_ he's been doing well privately. Sure he earns punishment, but that's the way both he and Cas like it; everything's been enjoyable. Hence, he never thought things would go so wrong at the market. It did, as Cas said it would. Sam ended up causing a scene, embarrassing himself in a way that was not fun, or uplifting as it's always been with Cas thus far. He felt stupid and worse, that he had failed Cas; _wasn't good enough for him_. All things he knows are silly, doubts that were easily washed away later, snuggled deep into naked-Cas's arms on his bed, but in those moments at the market, the fears and anxieties were real. He was glad for the experience. If not, he'd be pestering Cas still. Instead, the trust the pair had been building expanded and hollowed room for more trust to grow.

Sam is lying in his favorite place, in Cas's arms with Cas dressed in nothing but a t-shirt (wasn't Sam surprised to learn that Cas has t-shirts?) "What kind of a dinner party?"

"The fun kind," Cas says, evil smile spreading onto his face.

As much as Sam can get that feeling, that one he love-hate-loves, yeah, he does end up having fun when Cas declares they'll have fun. After that announcement, they lay together some more, feeling one another breathe. Cas draws slow, lazy circles on his shoulder. _It can't get any better than this._ Is this how Dean and Benny feel when they're content?

"Cas I want… you mentioned piercing me…" What Sam really wants is a tattoo, but he's too shy to say so. He's not sure if he wants the same tattoos like Nathan and the other angel's submissives have, the special palace tattoos given to permanent subs, but it would be nice to have something permanent from Cas. Tattoos are more permanent than a piercing Sam could take out. He wouldn't, but he _could_.

"Yes, beautiful boy?" Cas plays dumb. He just wants to hear Sam say it, _sadistic bastard._

"Where do you want to pierce me, sir?"

"I should think it would be obvious, both of these must be pierced posthaste. At a later date, we'll need to add something special to your cock and…"

Sam enjoys the excited tone in Cas's voice as he gets carried away listing all the places he'd like to pierce Sam and as he makes peace with the fact that nipple rings are in his near future. He'll wear them proudly—the other stuff, well the stuff on his penis does sound like fun, perhaps even the tongue ring, but Cas is going to have to live with the fact that Sam is never piercing his nose, no matter how much Sam loves him.

"Cas, Sir? Can we do it soon? I'd like it soon." _I'd like to have something soon._

"That can be the thing we do today, but tell me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

Sam is frustrated by the question. Sure he's been thinking about it, but things make more sense in his head, saying them out loud, the words come harder. He knows Cas won't accept any of his excuses. "The market."

"What about the market, beautiful boy?"

"I know you said you weren't disappointed in me, but I'm still disappointed in myself."

"I had a feeling you were still worried over that, which is why I planned the dinner."

"You did?"

"Yes. I guarantee you'll feel better after the party, now up. We have some nipples to pierce, so I can decorate you for dinner."

**

Cas enjoyed watching Sam's piercing. It hurt. Fucking hurt, so of course it turned Cas on. Cas couldn't even wait 'till they'd left the tattoo parlor, he had to take Sam right there (no the person couldn’t have someone come to the palace to pierce him. Why? Because going out is more fun) and he fucked Sam hard on the poor woman's chair.

As much as Cas enjoyed the process Sam had to go through in getting the piercings, he doesn't want to have to wait for human healing to take place, he wants to hang things from them now, so he uses his angel mojo (as soon as they return to the palace) to heal them, or in others words, flip his nipples' closed for business sign to open.

Next, Cas hangs a tiny letter 'C' from his left nipple (so it's over Sam's heart) and a chain to connect the two rings. Sam admires himself in the mirror. "You look more beautiful than I imagined."

"Thank you, sir."

Other than the straps of the various harnesses Cas has buckled him into, and his cuffs that's all Sam is wearing. "Shall we then?" Cas says.

Sam knows he's in for something, but he has no idea what. All he can do is nod and follow Cas's lead.

~**~

Cas leads Sam into a room with a long dinner table set for twelve guests. Five of those guests are already seated, or Sam supposes, strapped in. Sam doesn't know what to think about what he sees, but he doesn't have much time for thinking; two women are suddenly leading him to the place he'll be sitting. He can feel Cas's delighted expression on him.

"Hi, Sam," Nathan says from his place which will be across from Sam. Nathan is positioned, so that his elbows and forearms rest on the table and his ass is on display, open and ready for whatever his master wishes. He's not just standing there, he's strapped in. His legs have been threaded through a special chair, which is equipped with harnesses holding his legs and pelvis in place via the buckles and straps that are on his body.

Sam is being strapped into his own special chair, in the same manner. He bites his lip feeling the hot rush of embarrassment and looks up at Cas. "Sir?"

Cas leans down to speak quietly with him. "We're going to have all kinds of fun at this dinner party. Nathan is going to help you, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Sam is nervous, but is looking forward to whatever's about to happen, until he feels Cas unlocking his chastity piece. When Sam was first locked into the thing, he didn't care for it much – it was an annoyance – but soon Sam learned how helpful it was. Everything Cas did seemed to light him up like a firecracker and the chastity device was sometimes his only line of defense against coming without permission.

Sam doesn't know what's going to happen yet, but he knows it will involve sexual torture and for that, he wants his sexual armor. Cas runs a hand through this hair. "All will be well, Samuel. You're ready for this. It will be a challenge, but it's a challenge you can conquer." He gets closer to Sam's ear. "The reward is _several_ orgasms."

And sold. Sam can do this. It's been a long time since he's earned a real orgasm.

Nathan and Sam aren't the only ones strapped into chairs, bent over the table across from each other. There are five other pairs of men strapped across from each other. Beside each man who is strapped in, is an empty chair. Cas sits in the chair next to Sam, Gabriel sits in the empty chair next to Nathan. The other dinner guests sit in their chairs next to their respective partners, who are also naked and on display.

"You look divine, Sam. Are you comfortable?"

Comfortable? _Comfortable?!_ How could this position be thought of as comfortable in any universe? When Sam feels Cas playing with his balls, Sam squeaks out an answer. "Yes, sir. Comfortable. Very," though he is anything, but, which of course Cas knows and this brings Cas great enjoyment. _Fucking sadists._

"Good," he says with a final pinch. "Though I don't want you too comfortable. I may have to hang heavier things from these," Cas says and flicks Sam's newly pierced nipples.

The dinner begins with appetizers, which are not served to the Sam's and the Nathan's of the table. Sam doesn't know anyone else besides Nathan and Gabe, but Sam thinks he recognizes their cousin Anna (she tends to get written about and is especially active in social media) at the far end as one of the dressed and seated guests. Sam's stomach growls, he's hungry and he's wondering how the hell he's supposed to eat like this. He doesn't have to worry about that long as he realizes nothing is served to him or to Nathan. "Wondering where your appetizer is, pet?" Cas asks.

"Yes, sir."

"He's right there. Your appetizer is, Nathan, or maybe you're Nathan's, I'm not sure. I can't wait to see how you two figure it out." Cas winks.

Nathan's looking at Sam in a way Sam recognizes, but hasn't seen on Nathan yet, not exactly. He's just a little bit shy, but mostly, he's got a hungry, predatory demeanor. "Come here, Sam, I'm going to kiss you."

Sam looks over to Cas, who smiles and sits back waiting. "Well, go on, darling. Don't keep him waiting all night, the main course is coming soon," Cas says suspiciously, leading Sam to believe that the main course is not food either.

Truth be told, Sam has wanted to kiss Nathan. How could he not? Nathan is large and beautiful and has been touching him lots and all over the place for some time now. He's attractive in many ways other than his physique; Sam genuinely adores Nathan. Of course Sam wouldn't do anything, even kiss Nathan, without Cas's approval, but it looks like he doesn't just have Cas's approval, but also his encouragement.

Nathan's lips are warm and soft when they meet Sam's and Sam shouldn't be, but Nathan's tongue surprises him when it slips inside Sam's mouth. "Good boy," Cas tells him and this eggs Sam on, combined with the pleasure Sam feels as he continues to be kissed by Nathan. Nathan is an excellent kisser.

Sam feels a slick hand reach between his legs and tug at his engorged cock. He assumes it's Cas's hand, but Cas shows him that his hands are busy, working at his real appetizer. "Not me, beautiful boy, but look at you, getting all hot an bothered by any old hand that reaches between your legs."

 _Fuck._ The humiliation Sam feels hearing those words and knowing they're true makes him all the more horny.

"It's too bad you're not allowed to come until I'm ready to make you come," Cas says, enjoying watching Sam suffer.

Something about all the sensations combined, makes Sam desperate for Nathan's kisses as he enjoys the wet hand rubbing his cock then stopping intermittently. "That's it, I want you to keep kissing, Nathan, slutty boy."

Sam does, still loving how Nathan kisses, while also loving that he's pleasing his Sir. Sam loses track of time and he's not sure how he staves off his orgasm, but he manages. Before Sam knows it, the appetizer plates are being cleared away. Nathan and Sam pull apart to stare at each other then to their respective Sirs for more direction. "Here baby, drink some water," Cas says as Gabriel does the same with Nathan. "You're going to need it for what's next."

"Thank you, Sir." Sam is grateful for the water, but he's still wondering if he'll get to eat anything.

Cas can hear his stomach rumbling and laughs. "I know you must be hungry, but it is my wish that you save your appetite for other things, my love."

In other words, no Sam isn't going to get to eat for the foreseeable future.

Sam doesn't have long to think about food. As the next course is served, Sam can feel a finger sliding into him and while he can't see what's going on behind his person, he can see what's going on behind the other torturees. An attendant is wheeling a machine toward each, as another continues to work fingers into their asses.

Sam is half-dazed, but still lucid enough. Lucid enough to notice the large silicone penises, attached to every machine. "Ah, looks like dinner is served," Cas says specifically to Sam. "Remember the rules my love; no coming until I make you. Come without permission and you won't come again for a very long time; hold off and I will make it worth your while." He runs a loving hand through Sam's long hair.

"Yes, sir." Sam is surprised at himself. To think there was a time not so very long ago when he would have been too shy just thinking about being naked in front of this many people. Now, he's about to be fucked by a machine, while strapped spread wide, taking sex at the dinner table, rather than food. Sam flushes hot with shame, which only serves to heighten his sexual arousal.

Sam feels the head of silicone press against his spread hole and Nathan leans in to kiss him again. The decent-sized dildo, presses in all the way, then methodically pulls out at a pace Sam can handle. It brushes against his prostate in a way that has him squirming and pressing back for the machine's touches. He really shouldn't, he should be grateful that it's a pace he can hold at, but fuck, this is turning him on like nothing else, his desire taking on a mind of its own.

There is the part of him that is deeply feeling the embarrassment and he does part from Nathan's kisses for long enough to take a look at the other participants. None of them are coherent anymore either, completely lost in a world that narrows down to that one not-so-little piece of silicone.

The table is filled with quiet moans that each dominant partner is ignoring intentionally. They engage in idle chatter, pretending they don’t have a writhing, suffering submissive beside them. "Tell me Gabriel, is that jacket new?"

If you had asked Sam only several weeks ago if he would participate in live, sexual dinner theatre, he would have said, "that sounds fucking hot, but no way." Because the very idea is hot and just watching the others getting fucked by machines turns him on. But he's not just watching, it's happening to him. Over and over the dildo slides in, brushing deliciously against his prostate. Even the splurging sounds as it sucks in and out, tickle that bit of humiliation Sam needs to make his cock that much harder.

And Sam and Nathan kiss. The more turned on he gets, the more he wants to kiss Nathan. It's clear Nathan's having the same dilemma.

"Remember, Samuel," Cas whispers in his ear. "No coming."

"Yes," kiss, "sir." Fuck he wants to come. Badly.

"I'm so proud of you. It wasn't long ago being naked in front of someone made you weak in the knees with shyness. Now look at you? Spread and eager for whatever I decide to give you. You're such a good, good, boy."

Sam has a distant thought that his hackles should rise at that, but he can't care at the moment. The only thing he's concerned with is coming without permission. "Mmmm, sir. Can't… can't hold… can't."

"Oh, but you can beautiful boy. Maybe not before, but this is something I've trained you to do. You can do this."

That may be so, but it's fucking torture. "Please, sir. _Please_." Cas loves it when he begs, maybe he'll let him come before dinner, or at least put him out of his misery.

He doesn’t. Sam has to endure countless minutes of the machine along with everyone else. There is some comradery in their predicament that Sam appreciates and it's why he gives Nathan a fond look, which Nathan returns, but it's only the briefest of flashes before the dildo pounds into him again, and Sam is moaning in Nathan's face. Nathan's eyes roll back into his head with stupid levels of pleasure, before they're kissing and kissing again.

When the guests are finished with their meals, the machines are taken away. Sam already feels filled with sex, and Cas's cock hasn't even entered him yet. Cas does run a hand down his sweat soaked skin and Sam groans at the feel of it. Everything is sexually heightened by this point. "Are you ready for dessert, Baby?" Cas asks him gently.

"Sir… I don't… Sir…"

"It's okay beautiful boy, you're the dessert," Cas says as he undoes his pants. "And I want you to come when you're ready."

Cas slips inside him easily and as much as the fucking machine was awesome, there's nothing like Cas's large, thick cock. Cas holds onto his hips and slams into him ferociously. "That's it baby, keep kissing Nathan for me."

Sam idly notices that Gabriel is behind Nathan, fucking into him – his sensors are overwhelmed at the moment and he gets to come, he gets to fucking come. It's been? How long's it been? Sam can't remember. Cas has milked him, _relieved_ him, but orgasms are few and far between.

Even still, Sam wants it to last. He loves having Cas's cock inside him, he's waited for this all night; he wants it to continue. "C'mon love, Nathan's not allowed to come until you do, and it's been a long time for him. Don't you want to put him out of his misery?" Cas says darkly, into his ear.

"I do sir, but I love your cock in me."

"Silly boy. Did you think this would be the only time tonight? I have so many plans for you and all of them end with my cock in your ass and plenty more orgasms for you. But I need you to come so I can build each deliciously longer than the next."

In that case.

Sam comes. Boy does he ever. He comes so hard and so long, he's not sure he could tell you his name if you asked him. It's the best feeling in the world though. Time and space ends then begins again. Sam vaguely hears the sounds of Nathan coming to as he spends time collapsed in a heap on the table.

Sam feels Cas rubbing his back while he's still lost in space, with Cas cooing sweet nothings at him and plenty of encouraging phrases, along with a lot of good boys. Then he's aware of being unbuckled and carried to a mountain of soft pillows, with one of those pillows being Nathan, with which he happily tangles his legs and snuggles into. "Rest, Sam," Cas says. "When you wake, I'll feed you food and water, and then some more of my cock."

Cas is right. The dinner party did make him feel better and boost his submissive confidence. If he can do stuff like this, surely being ready for the ball is just a hop, skip and a jump away.


	11. The Ball

"I hate this Cas. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it." Sam's given up on keeping it to himself and resorts to acting like a spoiled little boy – dignity be damned.

Cas looks at him, indulgently, but also with cool candor. Cas likes Sam to speak his mind of course, but he's to do it respectfully; Sam knows he's treading a fine line. "I know you hate it. We've discussed this, if there was anything I could do about it, I would. As it stands, I shall have to attend the ball with Gen and Mandy. Not to worry, you'll be ready for the next one. And that's three for your excessive attitude."

Cas is being generous, but Sam does not adjust his attitude, pouting some more and Cas isn't pleased. "You will obey me Samuel, and with better disposition." And truly, Sam knows better by this point than to continue with his temper tantrum when Cas has already politely brought it to his attention. He's not a brat like Dean and Cas doesn't allow for that kind of behavior at all. "Over the bed. That's thirty with my strap as a warning. Continue on and the total will double."

Sam accepts the thirty and when his bottom is stinging, he does regret his tantrum, but he still doesn't like the situation. "Thank you for my discipline, sir," Sam says, prostrate, head pressed to the floor before Cas as he begs forgiveness.

"You are forgiven, my love."

"But sir," Sam says far more respectfully after that stern reminder. "I really do wish it were me representing you." Sam feels an utter failure for not making the cut in time.

Cas pulls him up, so they are standing at equal height, even though the collar Sam wears, is still stiff with the reminder of his place at Cas's feet. "Be careful what you wish for. When you are ready, you will accompany me all the time. You will be naked save your harness and cuffs and collar; I will make you perform many displays of submission in front of many people, just because. Does that sound like something you are ready for, pet?"

Sam shrinks away just a little. "N-no, sir. Not yet." The dinner party several nights ago had been a big achievement for Sam, but it was intimate and it helped that the people he submitted in front of were other angels, submissives, and palace staff. The stuff Cas has had him do in the bookstore, were no more than small acts of discipline compared to what he knows Cas eventually wants. They were embarrassing acts, and did push his limits at the time, but now, he's used to submitting in that way. Of course, the hot sting of humiliation will always be there – that's part of it for Sam – but he's learned how to embrace it. The ball still feels too formal and Cas's talk of all the public submission he expects makes him think of the day at market, in other words his colossal failure.

"See? You aren't ready, Samuel. But I know something you are ready for. On your knees."

Sam complies immediately as Cas pulls out his cock. "You've got some poor behavior to atone for. Get to work on that, do a good job and maybe I'll spank you long and nicely after the ball."

Rebellion rises hot in Sam and it's this same feeling of wanting to rebel mixed with what will happen to him later that makes him revel in being told what to do by Cas.

"What do you say to me for being so generous as to allow you to make it up to me at all?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Good. You're being exceptionally naughty today though, Beautiful Boy. Watch it. I'll let you make it up to me with your beautiful mouth, since it's the thing getting you in trouble, but one more outburst and you won't be attending the ball. Period."

Okay. Sam gets it. He's stepping over the line. He knows Cas is always open to talking about Sam's feelings, but Sam isn't talking about them, he's bratting about them and Cas doesn't tolerate brats.

Dean wouldn't last under Cas, which is why Benny is perfect for him.

But Sam is different. He appreciates the stricter hand and is soothed by it. Sam takes Cas in his mouth, sucking him down and making a good job of it; he wants that spanking, even if he'll deny he does 'till he dies. Cas knows though, thank the stars Cas knows, so Sam will never have to say it.

~**~

Cas is up with there with his brothers and his father, each sitting in their respective thrones. Nathan is in front of Gabriel, Gadreel has no one, since the whole point of this ball is for him to find someone, Cas's father having allowed Cas to wait to 'find someone', because he is the favorite. At each of Cas's sides are hussy one and hussy two: Gen and Mandy. They came in, crawling, attached to the sliver leashes Cas is holding. Worse, they're gorgeous and Sam isn't just talking about their looks. They're female versions of Nathan, sleek and graceful in their submission. _Perfect. Fucking perfect._

Not clumsy and willful like Sam who only hours ago, Cas was punished for disobedience. _Bet they can meditate for three hours._

"Remember Sam, you're the one who wears my collar," Cas had reminded him and proceeded to give him several more kinds of markings all over his body that he could wear to the ball to feel when he missed being with Cas.

The markings help a little, but Sam's still hating every minute of this fiasco and it has nothing to do with the fact that he's dressed in a suit, just like the rest of the royalty, or maybe it does a little. That was a dirty trick. Cas built it up like he was going to be wearing some kind of get-up. Instead, Cas plugged him, 'generously' attached it to his cock cage and dressed him in this monkey suit.

"Why the sour face, Sammy?" Dean asks. Cas sent suits for Dean and Benny too, they're all decked out.

"You wouldn't get it Dean."

"C'mon Sam. I hate seeing you like this, try me."

"No."

"If you do, I'll tell you what I was really doing with panty hose and the vacuum cleaner."

"I don't need to know about yours and Benny's sex life, Dean."

"I only said that to throw you off scent, trust me, it had nothing to do with sex."

Whatever it was, Benny still isn't entirely over it. Dean was spanked every night for a week and put to bed early, and a strict curfew is still being enforced, Dean only being allowed to stay out later tonight as a special exception. "I still don't want to know and I still don't want to talk."

"Does it have anything to do with those beautiful hussies up there?"

"Dean!"

"Cher, are you gettin' yourself into more trouble," Benny cuts in, walking up with the two beers and a soda water for Sam. Apparently, Cas says Sam's not allowed to drink tonight. Sam thought about saying that was a load of bull, thus continuing his short stint as a brat, but thought better of it when Cas gave him _the look_ , the one that in no uncertain terms told Sam that he wouldn't be attending the ball if he said anything. Cas did explain that it would be yet another mark, a non-physical one, but a mark just the same. Every drink Sam didn't drink, would remind him of Cas, while Cas couldn't be with him.

"No, sir. Just a little brotherly bonding. I'll be good," Dean says now that Benny's here. Dean may be a brat, but his bratting days are on hold for the moment while he digs himself out of his current hole.

"One beer for you, Dean. You're still on suspension," Benny says, but he pulls Dean close and it's easy to see Dean basking in the comfort that is Benny.

Sam leans against the wall, watching the proceedings happen. He sips on his soda water and glares at the entire royal family and their stupid traditions. Sam could have done that, he could have. Now that he sees the leash and what Nathan looked liked, also crawling up to the platform behind Gabriel, Sam feels nothing but confident he could have done the same.

And would have been proud to.

He's only realizing this now though. "Here Dean," Sam says. "Hold my drink."

"What? Sam. What are you? _Sam_!"

Sam's ripping off his jacket and tie at the same time. "What the hell are you doing, Sam?"

"I'm going up there to my rightful place. That's my fucking place."

"I think you should stay here Sam," Benny pleads. "What they're doing up there looks important."

Sam will not be swayed.

But before he can take his loosened tie off from around his neck, in runs Crowley, paparazzi extraordinaire. It only takes Sam a moment to figure out, he's running from the palace guards, _just how does he keep thwarting them?_ The proceedings going on up front halt and Crowley takes pictures like a mad man.

Sam has been otherwise occupied and hasn't checked any form of media for weeks. It finally dawns on Sam to ask, _what does Crowley do with all the pictures?_

~Dean~

"Can I grab him, Ben? Please say I can grab him. He's right there." Dean knows he's in the doghouse with Benny still, but this doesn't ceasefire their mission to stop Crowley does it?

"Go for it Cher."

Dean would cheer if he didn't have to move lightening fast, to try to grab Crowley as Crowley attempts to Houdini himself out of here. Dean lunges and grabs for any pieces of the little bearded man, and manages to grab the shoulder bag he's wearing, but he doesn't get a great grip on it and the whole thing goes flying, the contents spilling everywhere.

Dean can't care about that right now, he leaves the bag and the crap that fell out for dead and tears off after Crowley, who once again, makes off into the night with his camera and thus more pictures with which to write stupid articles. Benny runs up behind him. "You better let him go and come quick. Sam's looking at what dickweed had in his bag."

It's all worth it just to hear Benny say dickweek. Dean heads back inside and Sam's there, tie loosened, shirt open enough to see his broad chest. He's still wearing the black tux jacket, but now he looks like some kind if stripper in the middle of a set. Dean realizes this is a weird thing to think about your brother, but a spade is a spade and Dean will call it so.

What's more worrisome, is what's in Sam's hand: Photos. Photo after photo after photo, of Sam in various positions with Cas; most of them embarrassing. Some how, Crowley managed to get some pretty private moments, along with all of the public displays of course. The articles are there and Sam's skimming them. Dean knows he's a fast reader, Sam tears through the garbage Crowley wrote about him and Cas.

Dean can't bear to watch. These past few weeks are the happiest he's ever seen his brother. He knows that Sam and Cas fit together, but that Sam's pig head and his pride could ruin everything they've built. Those pictures will get to Sam, drive him crazy. Sam won't be able to move past them. He'll break up with Cas and go back to being miserable. The longer Sam looks through the pile, the more Dean worries, hesitating to do what he has to, talk Sam off the fucking ledge.

Dean moves in, not really sure what to say, but winging it like he always does. "S-Sammy? I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but don't worry, we'll destroy that guy bit by bit. That'll teach him to take photos of you when you're submitting. We won't let him embarrass you, uh, anymore."

Sam looks to Dean in a bit of a daze and holy fuck, Sam's smiling. "Dean? Embarrass me? No way, _look_ at these. They're… I'm beautiful."

Confused, Dean looks over the pictures thinking Sam must be looking at different pictures than the ones that pissed Benny and him off these past weeks, but nope, they're the same ones. Picture after picture of Sam in various positions that Dean would find beyond humiliating, but Sam's happy. Dean looks at them again and tries to see them through Sam's eyes.

There are ones with Sam kneeling at Cas's feet, some with Sam getting spanked in the bookstore where he works, even some of the chastity device Sam wears Dean's seen that he wishes he could unsee. There are some of various whippings and canings and even the day Sam flipped out at the market, which was written about in length, front page of the local paper. It's not easy for Dean to see at first, but when he looks long enough, it comes to him.

Dean may not submit to Benny in quite the same way that Sam submits to Cas, but Dean gets it. The pictures are beautiful to Sam, because they're pictures of his gift to the one he loves most. Cas is _worth_ it to Sam, Cas is worth giving this thing that lives deep inside of him, to.

Also apparent in the pictures, is how much Cas loves Sam. How precious Sam is to Cas. Cas isn't just a guy telling his brother what to do, Cas sees something in Sam he's pulling out of him, a strength and a confidence Dean's always known is there inside his brother, but it's never bloomed quite like it has been since Sam met Cas.

In the rules, Sam has been freed.

While the beauty is really inspired by the chemistry happening between the pair, it's Sam's beauty that really sings.

"Yeah Sammy, wow, you're stunning."

"Thanks Dean and so are you _and_ Benny, in women's pantyhose," Sam says, handing Dean the picture of that god awful day with his worst idea ever. Yeah. Dean can finally admit it – it had been a stupid fucking idea. Benny had to come bail him out, by trying to pose as another job applicant, but all that ended up happening was a photo shoot that no amount of brain bleaching will erase. Benny makes an ugly woman. Still, Dean thinks he looked kinda hot, so he pockets the picture. "I'll make this never sees the light of another day."

Cas finally makes it through the crowd and over to Sam. In an instant, he's patting Sam down, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt? Good grief, Sam, why are you undressed?"

That's when Dean notices a new adornment on his brother and he's out of here. Dean's now seen too many things going into places of his brother he's never wanted to see and now he knows about the nipple rings. Jesus Fuck. Maybe when he gets home, he can bleach his eyeballs.

~**~

"Cas, I'm fine I'm, have you seen these?" Sam shows Cas the pictures and the articles some of the pictures appeared in.

"I have and Samuel, I promise you I've done everything to keep these out of circulation and keep Crowley's work out of the media, but he's managed to thwart me every time."

"Why would you want to do that? These are, wow, Cas. Yeah, the guy's articles are utter drivel, but he can really capture a moment. I'm gonna keep these."

"Keep whatever you like, Baby. You are beautiful – I tell you every chance I get."

"And another thing, Cas, those two ladies are fired. I mean, they're pretty hot, so they can come into _our_ bed if they wish, but they will not take _my_ place at your feet." Sam removes the jacket and the shirt he's wearing, but leaves the tie. He kicks off his shoes and in seconds, his pants are gone. Sam is left in nothing but his cock cage, cuffs, and collar. He's of course decorated with the chain that dangles from his nipple rings.

Cas is shocked. " _Our_ bed?" is all he can say.

"Ours Cas. You're mine, but I'm yours too."

"You are mine beautiful boy. I knew it since I first laid eyes on you."

"Then I'm ready. Do it. The leash, the crawling the whole bit."

Cas crosses his arms. "I believe I'm in charge and I'll issue the orders. You obey them."

Sam remembers himself and looks chagrined. "Yes, sir."

"That's okay, Samuel and that's ten by the way."

"Of course, sir."

"You should know, we are going to begin again, straight from the parade in, to make up for that outburst. I will agree to allow you to be attached to the end of my leash, but I will not go easy on you. You will likely earn demerits all the way. Gone will be the nice spanking I had planned and instead I will punish you soundly."

Sam can't breath.

"You still want to do this? Even with the definite promise of a sound beating afterward?"

Cas is smiling. Sam is smiling. That makes them both stupid happy.

"Of course, sir. I'll never expect less from you."


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains a potential squick-kink. It's something I've never written before, but when I read the prompt, my muse immediately wanted to write the request from the prompt in the form of this ending. Still I hummed and hawed because I was chicken. But then, *said in Marty McFly voice* "No one calls me chicken," not even me, so I wanted to do it. I did. I shall give it away in the end notes if you want to skip ahead to see what it is, but if you check the tags, I think you'll be smart enough to figure it out ;) It's short though, so you'll be able to skip/skim that part without having it ruin the chapter or story for you. 
> 
> I had SO MUCH FUCKING FUN writing this story. A HUGE thank you again to crOwgrrl for the prompt. It gave Mock the chance to do pretty much whatever the hell her kinky little brain wanted and I thank her so much for that. I hope she enjoyed what I did with her prompt.

Epilogue: Eleven Months later

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little nervous. Nervous is a big fucking understatement. But he doesn't see why he should be. Oh the things Cas's had him do, has done to him. Why just the other night, at another one of his now famous dinner parties, Sam was the entertainment for guests as he fucked himself onto a chair – it was made pretty much out of dildo. Did he balk at that? Even bat an eye? No, he hadn't.

Knowing he was submitting for Cas, pleasing Cas, was all the gumption he needed. He put on the show of the century, all the while Cas explaining what a slut he was to him and all of the other guests and making Sam agree with him. Sam fucking loved it.

Sometimes, Sam has even been décor. Like the time Cas decided Sam would practice his meditation in the middle of the entryway. This way, he could be like a pretty ornament, something to be admired, by anyone who should walk through the palace doors. It wasn't the first time he was décor either and it won't be the last. Cas has informed him that at the next ball, he'll star as statue of Adonis.

Often, his punishments take place with some sort of an audience. Sure there are still private ones, but Cas adores showing off his submissive whether he's good, or naughty (Sam is never truly misbehaved like Dean, but he's often willful enough, Cas has plenty reason to beat him soundly). He loves showing everyone the beauty of Sam's submission to him, which is just for Cas, even with a public viewing. Sam feels at home when he's doing these things for Cas – no matter how difficult, or humiliating – it's a language they speak to each other, it's theirs and it's special.

So why the fuck is he nervous today?

Even their wedding had been a very public affair in which Cas had Sam do several things that weren't Sam's favorites. He spent the dinner portion of the reception at Cas's feet, being fed by Cas. Originally, Cas found hand-feeding Sam boring, right up until he figured out how much Sam hated it. Then the sadist inside of him wanted to do it often, enjoying how grumpy it made his submissive boy. Meanwhile, Sam did hate it, but he loved pleasing Cas and wanted to do it to make him happy. He may even play up his hatred for the act a little, to make it more enjoyable for Cas and thus, more enjoyable for himself. Either way, doing it for all to see was a whole other level, one Sam feels he did with as much grace as any other palace-trained submissive, like Nathan.

Cas claimed him during their wedding, several times, for all to see and he had bore that with ease and beauty as well, enjoying how owned he felt.

Because he is owned. _Owned._ Like a piece of property. And today that will be more apparent to everyone in a way that supersedes all the acts he's done thusly. Today is the official submission ceremony. Their wedding was one kind of claiming, this will be another.

Sam walks into the bookstore, keeping as many wits about him as he can, deciding not to think about the public submission ceremony that will happen later today. He's not supposed to be here, he's supposed to be with Nathan, practicing yet more technique. Sam feels he's been 'techniqued' to death already and so he ran away. Cas will punish him when he finds out, but the few minutes of piece and quiet will have been worth it.

Soon as he walks in the door, the bell jingles and Mr. Evil Boss runs over to see who it is, disappointed when he sees it's Sam. "You. Where have you been? You've missed the last six of your shifts."

"Only the last six? I quit months ago." Sam had quit long before the wedding. He loved working in a bookstore, but he hated working for Mr. Evil Boss enough, he gladly gave his position up. Apparently, the man hadn't paid attention to him. Figures.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm not allowed to be a customer?" Sam could buy the whole bookstore if he wanted and if he thought for one second Cas would allow it, which he wouldn't. Cas always made it clear that he wanted Sam as his twenty-four seven submissive. He wanted to own Sam. Sam wanted that too, he _wants_ that, but with all of Cas's princely duties, there is a lot of down time. Sam requested permission to work on the ranch with his brothers in that time. Cas conceded, however, he's always given some kind of task, or reminder of Cas's ownership of him while he's away from Cas. There would be no time in there for running bookstores.

Sam wouldn't want it any other way. Besides, he's got his very own library anyway.

"You can be a customer," Mr. Evil Boss says, scowling at Sam.

"Damn right. And I want _you_ to collect the list of books I want." Sam lists ten books and waits until Mr. Evil Boss scurries off to fetch them, before he ducks into the back.

"Pssst, Kev? Kevin?"

"Here, Sam." Kevin's moving stock around. He looks good. "What you doing here?"

"Hiding," Sam says, making himself comfortable on a stack of boxes.

"Isn't today your big day?"

"It is, but I – things were getting… I needed a break."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. Nothing like that. I love Cas. I love submitting to him. I'm just, a bit nervous."

"You're nervous? Huh, who'd'a thunk it? You're never nervous."

Is he kidding? Sam's nervous about things. Maybe not all the time, but things. "I do get nervous, Kevin."

"Well I'll be. I guess if even the Gods get nervous, people like me have a fighting chance."

Sam laughs. "Of course you do. And, I'm not perfect."

"You sure seem it. Those pictures I see of you in the media, they're stunning."

Sam blushes, but he can't disagree. Crowley still tries to drag his good name through the mud, but he's an amazing photographer, so good, his pictures outshine his articles by far and people can see the truth: Cas brings out every stitch of Sam's beauty through his submission. "Thanks, Kevin."

"Yeah you just… you glow Sam. When I see you submit to Cas, you've got an aura of glamor around you. It's inspiring."

That makes Sam feel a world better. He didn't know it until Kevin said it, but now he knows why he came here – he came to hear that others could see how he feels inside when he's submitting for Cas: Strong, confident, beautiful. It makes him feel whole. "If it's so inspiring, quit."

"I told you Sam, I will quit."

"Yeah, yeah. Soon as your music career takes off." Kevin won't even let Sam help him.

Kevin laughs. "I'll get there. Soon."

"Yeah, I just hate that you have to work for _him_."

Kevin smiles and looks slyly at the door. "Meh. It's got its perks."

Does that mean what Sam thinks it means? "Are you shacking up with that douchebag?" Sam hisses.

"His name is Cline and Cline is, well, he's what I _need._ He's… I call him Daddy," Kevin mumbles.

Sam can't believe it. "But he's awful to you."

"Not really. Well he is, but he's not. He's… how do I even explain this? It's why I haven't told you anything; I barely understand it myself. Long story short, he spanked me one day when you weren't here and I left the spanking feeling, well kinda in love . Ethan, or Brandon, or whatever the fuck his name was, became history. Cline and I fell more into these roles of… Daddy and little boy. I'm not a little or anything, it's a different kind of Daddy, little boy thing."

Sam knows exactly what he means. It's the same for Nathan and Gabriel. "I understand, Kevin, but I just… I can't picture him being anything but a douche."

Kevin laughs. "Oh, he is, but in private, he can be tender."

Sam's heard enough. If Kevin's happy, great, but Mr. Evil Boss, _Cline_ is so not his cup of tea. "Well, good for you then, Kev. So long as you're happy."

"Speaking of, I'd better not dally too long, I've got a lot of work to do. I'm sorry I can't make your ceremony today, but I'll look forward to reading about it tomorrow."

Sam's sure everyone will. Crowley wouldn't miss reporting on this.

Sam hugs his friend goodbye and tells him he'll be back when he can and thinks he's going to head back to the palace fairly trouble free, but when he comes out from the back room, Cas is there and Cas has his leash. "My pet seems to have gone missing. Might you have seen him?" Cas is asking Mr. Evil Boss, but Sam gets the distinct impression that Cas knows he's there and the questioning is for Sam's benefit.

"He's right there. I thank you to keep your pet out of my store." Does he realize Cas is the prince? He shouldn't be speaking to Cas that way, what and idiot. What Kevin sees in that dude, Sam will never understand. Only, Cas doesn't seem concerned with how _Cline_ is speaking to him.

Cas turns dark eyes on him. Sam gets to his knees immediately and prostrates for him, bowing his head low and pressing his chest to the ground. "I'm sorry your highness," Sam says.

"Interesting, where did you get clothes, pet?"

Since Sam would be naked for the ceremony, Cas saw no reason for Sam to wear clothes today. "The laundry, sir."

"I see. And the transportation down here?"

"Borrowed a horse from the stables, sir."

"Borrowed? I believe stole is the term you are looking for."

Sam wants to smile, but that's ill advised at this point. Cas will seek to make his offences as egregious as possible and it always entertains him.

"What business did my unruly pet claim to have here?" Cas asks Mr. Evil Ex Boss.

"He came in with the rouse he wanted books, when what he really wanted was to distract my employee."

"Is this true, Sam?"

"I did want the books, Sir."

"That's not what I asked you."

"It's true, Sir."

"My, my. Extremely naughty," Cas says, leaving Sam's muscles to begin to ache in the position he's in on the dirty floor. "Not to mention he was meant to be exactly where I told him to be. What would you do with such a disobedient pet, good sir?" Cas asks, lamenting his woe-be-gotten plight to Cline.

"Not only would I whip him thoroughly, but I would make sure everyone was around to watch."

"I like the way you think. Orgasms are clearly going to be a thing of the past – naughty pets don't deserve them, do they, naughty boy?"

Sam tries not to groan at that. He shouldn't be surprised by this point – Cas loves to torture him, especially using death by orgasm denial – but somehow, he always forgets that's on the table. "No, sir."

"Well, that's settled then. My apologies good, sir and thank you for reporting my pet here."

That gets Sam to look up, only to look down again lightening fast when he he's met with stern disapproval from Cas, a look Sam knows means, _"You've got punishment coming to you for this already, do I need to begin adding demerits for tomorrow too?"_ But Sam can't help the small misdemeanor. Cline Evil Boss ratted him out? Fucking figures. Seriously, what does Kevin see in that guy? (No, Sam won't stop asking it.)

"Remove your shirt," Cas commands and Sam lifts his torso from the floor long enough to do his immediate bidding then returns to bowing at Cas's feet. Sam feels Cas attach his leash. "Well then, we will be off. He will bother your employees no more – rest assured."

"I should think not."

Cas tugs Sam's leash and Sam knows to crawl after Cas. He's wearing jeans he stole from the laundry, so when he hits the pavement, there's minimal discomfort, but enough to please Cas. The limo is waiting outside; a man opens the door for them and they both climb inside. Sam expects to get a serious dressing down, Cas is giving him those eyes, but instead, Cas pulls him up to the bench seat with him, rather than having Sam kneel at his usual place by his feet. The place Sam prefers to be.

Cas threads a leg through Sam's as the driver begins their journey back to the palace, and Sam allows himself to become pliant in his arms. Cas runs fingers through his long hair. "Why did you runaway, beautiful boy?"

"I…" the words die in Sam's throat because thing is? The whole thing's stupid. He _wants_ to do the thing Cas asked him to do, genuinely, but he was having old fears, and Kevin helped him see that. He doesn't even want to tell Cas, but Cas deserves to know, especially since Cas looks hurt. "Can't you just punish me like a normal Dom, Sir?"

"Oh believe me, you're due a lot of punishment; you still disobeyed me, but you said you were ready for this ceremony, is that no longer true?" It's important Sam is ready for this ceremony. It's a ceremony, but it's also a test. If one of them isn't ready, all the world will see and that would be the most humiliating thing of all – and not in a fun way.

Sam shakes his head with a fond smile. "I'm ready, Sir. I just needed a little boost from an old friend." Sam had originally gone to Dean and while Dean can often have pearls of wisdom, this time he simply told Sam to stop being a pussy. Sam punched him in the dick. Not in nuts, right on his dick. Benny laughed. Suffice to say, he needed further counsel.

"In that case, you should start making this up to me," Cas says trusting Sam at this word, but also because he has angel senses and knows when Sam isn't being completely honest. If Cas hadn't been so busy planning the ceremony, he would have known something was up with Sam.

"My pleasure, Sir." Sam sheds his stolen pants, which is all he's wearing (he's not about to wear stolen underwear) and divests Cas of his, so he can sit on Cas's large cock and ride it all the way home.

~**~

Sam is behind a large, red curtain and some of the nerves are back. Not like earlier, but he's glad he's got Nathan to soothe him. Sam has been outfitted. He's wearing a harness that crosses his chest and over his shoulder blades with another strap that extends down the vertebrae of his spine and attaches to another strap that is secured around his waist. In addition to the wrist and ankle cuffs (which he wears for everyday) he's got cuffs circling his biceps. _"All the more places to use to chain you up, beautiful boy,"_ Cas had said. Because each set of cuffs has its own D-ring with which to attach something else; rope, chain, whatever.

He's got on the white posture collar, the same one Cas first gave to him when he decided to take the first steps toward becoming Cas's. Sam didn’t know it then, but he was already gone. Only gone for Cas though. Sam had always been worried that giving this part of himself to someone would mean the loss of his identity. With Cas, not only has his identity remained firmly intact, but Cas's tutelage continues to help him grow and blossom into new and greater things.

Thinking about Cas right now makes him smile and gives him all the confidence he needs.

"There you go, Sam," Nathan says at seeing Sam's demeanor change and light up. "Remember what I've taught you. You're submitting to Cas and he's all you need worry about. No matter what he asks you to do, you're doing it for him; the other people are irrelevant."

Sam smiles. "Yes, Nathan."

Nathan gives him a love tap to his bare ass. "Looks like someone is on his best behavior now, after that little disappearing act he pulled."

Sam is sheepish; he bites his lip. "I'm sorry, Nathan."

"You'll be forgiven, after I punish you. I'm not missing a chance to spank that bitable ass of yours."

"But Sir, is going to punish me," Sam protests. It's only a token protest. Sir punishing Sam is one thing, but Sam has to square things with Nathan too; Sam knows this. It's the way things work around here. It's a game and it's not a game at all – it's how they live and they love it. Every day, something to be punished, or disciplined for, or both. It's this back and forth that creates a particular feeling and feeds a particular desire in both of them and it makes them happy inside. Sam looks forward to Nathan's rebuttal; Nathan doesn't disappoint.

"As he should, but I worried over you. How do you think I felt when I discovered you were gone?"

"Sorry, Nathan," Sam says slyly.

"Those puppy eyes won't get you out of trouble with me. Oh no. You're going over my knee for a thorough paddling and if I'm still not pleased, I'll strap you soundly in front of the other members of staff whom I had look for you. That's only fair, don't you think?"

"Yes, Nathan," Sam says. Something inside him lights with joy and comfort, because what Nathan's said is caring to him. It's their language and in that language, Nathan's just said Sam's important to him.

That satisfies Nathan and Nathan pulls Sam in for a kiss, their soft lips brushing the other's, tongues sliding in and Nathan's hand tugging gently at Sam's lofty locks.

Currently, Cas is on the other side of the curtain, making a speech, introducing Sam formally (even though the kingdom knows exactly who Sam is).

"Pssst, Sam. You're up," Albert, another palace submissive, says.

"You're going to look so beautiful up there, Sam. I can't wait to watch you," are Nathan's last words to him, before Sam steps out in front of the crowd.

~**~

Cas looks like pure grace, but like, if grace were also totally badass. There's a darkness there that bleeds through him, mixing with the purity; not tarnishing it in any way, but strengthening it, making him a force to reckoned with and therefore, one that demands to be obeyed. When he smiles at Sam, it's like being smiled at by the sun, if the sun were also a wolf. The Big Bad Wolf.

Sam takes his place at Cas's feet, not looking him in the eye, as is expected, but he can't help the quarter smile on his lips. Everyone's clapping as Sam takes his place and he can feel how many eyes are on him – a fucking lot of eyes. Sam knows Dean and Benny are in the crowd also watching. The thought distracts him a little, Cas sense his distraction and begins playing with his hair, bringing his focus back to Cas, as he speaks. "This is the man I have taken as my submissive. We are here to prove the strength of our bond today."

Sam has never been to one of these things. He knows what's going to happen because he's learned from several people, including Cas and Nathan, over the course of time he's spent at the palace, but he's avoided them. Not because he wasn't curious; just the opposite in fact. He feigned disinterest, so no one would know how truly interested he was. Now that he's here, he knows he'll attend as many of these kinds of ceremonies as Cas will allow him. While he's still not particularly comfortable at the moment, it is a major turn on for him. His cock is fighting with its cage to become hard.

"We have completed the necessary tattoo work," Cas explains and then proceeds to lift Sam's wrist and from there, he unbuckles his left wrist cuff. This makes Sam a little more nervous. He's come to rely on his cuffs – all of his cuffs, for that cozy feel of contentment they give him. They help him focus. Without them, he's a trapeze artist without a net and Sam knows Cas isn't going to stop at the one cuff. He will need to remove all of his cuffs, including his collar to reveal the tattooed cuffs his soft leather ones cover. He's practiced this with Nathan, but he didn't like it then either.

A little bead of apprehension begins to build again and add to the nerves.

Once the tattoo under his left wrist is revealed, Cas works on the right wrist. Sam breathes and checks in with his posture, the perfect meditative posture he's worked on every day since he's met Cas. His back is pulled tall, with neutral arches in the right places, neck long, but looking down this time. His feet are flexed, so his toes can tuck under and press each toe pad into the ground – a posture that was difficult at first, but Sam's body is now conditioned to hold for long periods of time. Sam's body is profiled with the audience that arcs around the stage they are on in a one hundred and eighty fashion, which means one section of the audience can see his caged cock between his spread legs while another section can see his ass and thus the plug nestled between his cheeks.

There was a time when the thought of all these people seeing him with a plug in his ass would have broken his concentration immediately, with worry over what they might think of him. Sam's only concern now is the size of the plug. Only Sam and Cas know how large it is, because it is: Large and fucking uncomfortable that is. It's just the size for a sadist like Cas to enjoy, knowing Sam is doing his best not to shift out of position, or wiggle on the backs of his heels where his ass cheeks (his sore red ass cheeks – Cas doesn't often present him in public without a colorful ass to show what a naughty boy he is) meet them, knowing he is _suffering_. In return, Sam loves to suffer for Cas; each uncomfortable shift he discreetly makes, knowing he's not supposed to make it, brings him enjoyment through the discomfort.

Sam's hands are allowed to rest on his thighs for this. Often, Cas prefers them bound in any number of the creative binding devices the palace has on hand. Today, Cas needs them free in order to show the world the beautiful tattoos that now adorn Sam's wrists. All royal submissives are branded with the same wrist and ankle-cuff tattoos. A set of wings on the inside of the forearms and the outside of the ankle, with the Enochian word for _His_ written like a bracelet, beginning and ending at the wings. Of course, for any submissives belonging to female angels, the word _Hers_ is exchanged for _His_.

Sam is now cuff less, with the exception of his biceps cuffs, which will remain on; there are no tattoos under them anyway, _yet_. Cas enjoyed watching the writhing pain Sam endured so much in getting the tattoos, Sam's already been promised more in the most sensitive places Cas can think of. Cas teases Sam about getting: _Property of Castiel Novak. If lost please return_ , tattooed over Sam's ribcage for instance.

Sam continues breathing through the process, just like he would during his daily meditation, to get through the feeling of being without his cuffs. The worst is yet to come: Cas has to remove his collar.

They were permitted more leeway with the collar tattoo. It still had to be done in the swirling and ancient script of Enochian, but Cas was allowed to choose what it would say. This, another act of trust between the pair, to demonstrate that they had achieved that level of trust, and thus being permitted to have this ceremony at all. Some pairs like Sam and Cas (as Nathan had told Sam) were made to wait years, since that's how long it took before the level of the bond was at a level where the King could permit the ceremony.

Sam and Cas had taken a year, which was fast in terms of angel-human bonds, but as Nathan cheekily pointed out, not near as good as he and Gabriel at only six months. After Nathan teased him, he expressed that one year was excellent and few others have gotten to this point so quickly.

Sam did trust Cas to chose something that would honor him, but of course, the not knowing had been driving him nuts. It's a good thing his collar is locked on, or he may have been tempted to crack the Enochian with some of the many books in his library, or better, he may have already been able to read it, since he as been studying up on his Enochian, wanting to know the language of his new family.

In truth, Sam knows he would never have read it, despite temptation, or that would have resulted in a cancelled ceremony.

They've finally reached the big moment. _What did Cas choose to have etched into his skin permanently?_

"You should be able to read this one, pet."

Servants file out with enough hand-held mirrors for Sam to be able to see all around his neck, but he doesn't look up yet. "You may look. Read what it says out loud."

Sam looks up and yes, he can read the Enochian. "B-Beautiful Boy," he whispers.

"That's right. _Beautiful Boy._ That's what you are. It was the most fitting thing I could think of, since not only is it what I call you, but it _is_ you and your submission only serves to enhance this, Beautiful Boy."

Sam is touched. There are tears in his eyes. The servants file away. "You may look at me now, pet," Cas says and Sam does, enjoying Cas in this moment. But, still touching his neck as he is, he's reminded of what's not there and his focus wavers momentarily. "Eyes on me, Samuel," Cas reminds him and Sam takes a breath, refocusing on Cas, internally berating himself for his fuck up, even though no one is likely to have noticed. Cas noticed because he notices almost everything to do with Sam.

Some of the nerves that have reignited themselves, in light of having been divested of his cuffs, are still there. Of course, even without the material ones, Sam's now got the ink ones to always remind him of his place at Cas's feet, but the magic in them has not been ignited yet and Sam can't feel them.

Sam knows that the big moment is coming; his big act of submission. Cas was allowed to tell him ahead of time what he chose, but they weren't allowed to try it. It had to be something they had never done (a list that grows shorter by the day) and it had to be something that was not a kink of either of theirs. In other words, this would be an act of pure submission. The act itself being something neither would ever enjoy, thus proving how much Sam enjoys submitting to Cas and how much Cas enjoys receiving that act of submission, while also being something that was not on Sam's never, ever list – like with the mummification.

On the outside, Sam appears cool as a cucumber, the audience likely can't tell what's going on inside for him, but Cas knows him and can tell the nerves that started up again are peaking. Left any longer, and Sam might blow this whole thing.

There are two sides to this Dom and Sub thing and Cas steps in to do his part. He makes it look like he's leaning in to kiss Sam, but what he does is whisper words to him. "Samuel. _My Sam._ It's just you and me. Forget about them – you and me. You're mine and you do as I say. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Sam says quietly.

"After, I'm going to take care of you, like I always do Beautiful Boy, but right now, you're going to please me because I want you to. No other reason. Understood?"

Like magic, the apprehension melts away and all that's left is Cas – Sam only sees Cas and he wants to please him. "Yes, sir."

"That's it, good boy." Cas stands to full height again and opens his pants, taking out his cock that is so handsome, it's spellbinding. Sam is by far more possessive than Cas. While Cas enjoys seeing Sam with other people, Sam is far less amendable to having Cas do the same. But as usual, he's conflicted in the most delicious of ways. While he's not thrilled with so many people seeing Cas's cock, no matter how many times people seem to get to see it, he loves that in Cas pulling it out when he wants, how he wants, it puts Cas in charge. The feeling of Cas getting to make those kinds of decisions, especially knowing Sam's stance on the matter, turns Sam on.

Don't ask him to explain that one. Fucked if he knows. It's just a thing that is.

"Head down," Cas says. Sam obeys without question.

While, no they have not practiced and no they have not done this before, Sam has been instructed to act as he might if they were playing, alone together, to just revel in the act and pure joy of submission. This is why he worried. It's not something he can act, or make up a reaction to. It has to be real. _What if his reaction was the wrong one?_

Here in this moment, Sam isn't scared, worried, or concerned. He's consumed with a knowing that this _is_ the real deal. Cas is the one he wants to give himself to over and over, who he has given himself to over and over and Sam will gladly do this for Cas as many times as Cas wants him to.

When Sam feels the warmth of Cas's urine spray down over him, Sam embraces it. He pretends he's in the shower, and allows Cas to soak his hair with the amber-gold liquid (the color of angel pee) and even tilts his head back letting it wash his face. Some of it dribbles into his mouth. Sam doesn't care, he swallows it. He shakes his head, as he would if he were dispersing water from a showerhead, through his locks, and Cas's urine sprays down over his shoulders and upper back. Sam continues to run his fingers over his face and through his hair, making good work to cover himself – Sam would walk through fire for Cas, this is no different.

Sam is not turned on, watersports in general don't tickle his fancy for that matter and neither do they for Cas, but they are both aroused in another way – a non-sexual type of arousal and pleasure. For Sam it comes in the form of submitting and for Cas in the form of dominating – two sides of a kinky-ass coin, which balance the other perfectly.

They are both enjoying the moment, if not the act.

Finally, Cas is out of fluid. All that remains is Sam smiling up in awe at Cas and Cas looking down with equal awe to Sam. "I love you my Sam," Cas says. "It is an honor to serve you."

~**~

Much later, Cas is buried deep inside Sam. "Do you want to come, my love?" Cas asks.

"Mmmmh, yes, _please!_ Yes, sir!"

"Does it hurt?"

"It hurts. It _hurts_ sir," Sam answers. "Please let me come."

"Do you enjoy hurting for me?"

"Y-yes, _yes_ sir," Sam pants.

"You know, I'd really like to put you out of your misery," Cas says filled with playful sarcasm. "But I simply can't. You were misbehaved and I have to punish you, don't I Beautiful Boy?"

There's only one answer to that, if Sam ever hopes to come again. "Yes, Sir."

Cas continues to pound into him and Sam is grateful for cock cages, though soon, he'll begin leaking come as Cas milks his prostate, absent of the orgasm, Sam desperately wants. "It's an exhausting job keeping you in line, but someone has to do it. And to think, I had planned on giving you several orgasms tonight in reward for the gorgeous display I knew you would put on for everyone today."

Sam can't help it, he groans. He's gotten to know Cas and he figured he'd finally get to come tonight – it's been awhile, a long fucking while – and he'd been looking forward. Hearing confirmation of his suspicions is all the more torturous now that they won't be coming to fruition. "Couldn't you punish me some other way, sir? You always like spanking me," Sam suggests. He's helpful like that.

"I do and I will, but you're not coming anytime in the near future. However, please continue to beg as prettily as you are."

Sam does. For Cas. In return, Cas makes him suffer exquisitely.

When they're both spent and after Cas has carefully bathed Sam and allowed him to leave the deeper recesses of subspace, they're tangled together, naked. They've got the double doors to their balcony open and can stare at the stars from their large bed. Sam relishes in the soft touches from Cas, over Sam's arms with his fingertips and in the crevice of Sam's neck with his lips. Sam is warm and content and feels perfect.

But a question is burning in his mind.

"Cas," he says.

"That's one," Cas teases for real – in other words, he's not truly displeased, but as an opportunist, always looks for more reasons to spank Sam. "Yes my Sam?"

"No one will tell me how we activate these," Sam says running his fingers over the tattoo on his wrist, referring to all of them. "Nor have I been able to find the answer in a book and I don't get it. We love each other, we're married, we've proven our bond is real, shouldn't they, I dunno, _do_ something?"

Cas laughs. "Who told you they had to 'ignite' in the first place?"

"Nathan." Yeah, Sam's totally ratting him out because he just knows he's about to find out he's been had.

"Well maybe now you'll finally have reason to spank him," Cas says from behind him. "Though you could have just asked me."

For all the things that should make Sam blush and don't, that does. "Um, sir? How do we, turn these on?"

Cas presses a kiss into his neck. "They don't ignite on their own – I do it."

"How come you haven't?" Sam doesn't mean to sound so accusatory, but he does. He's insulted. Doesn't he mean enough to Cas?

Cas laughs some more, enjoying Sam's mild torment. "Once I 'turn them on,' they cannot be turned off. You'll always feel me, I'll always feel you. It's quite invasive. It's also not required. Very few choose to activate the tattoos."

At first Sam's more hurt. Doesn't Cas want to have that with him? But then it hits him. He knows what he's supposed to do, Nathan wasn't lying – there is something that has to happen before they ignite. He spins to face Cas.

"Make me yours, Cas."

Cas's blue eyes light with joy and he nods slowly, like he never believed Sam would ask for such a thing. In a quick movement, he's got Sam's wrists pinned together over his head. Sam goes pliant, letting Cas do whatever he's going to do.

"Of course, my Sam. It will be _as you wish_."

THE END

He was there today, he took the bloody pictures and once again, he's left with something too stunningly gorgeous for words. Originally, he wrote the drivel to antagonize the couple. They're so pretty. Ugh. Pretty people deserve to have some hot stones thrown at them. But then he noticed that for once, people saw beyond the words and only saw the beauty of his pictures, _his_ beautiful photography. This bolstered him and so he began to write more drivel, each article worse than the next.

He felt good about it – he didn't bloody care if baby Sam's widdle fweelings got hurt. Having pissed Prince Featherhead off felt like a great achievement. And Sam's brothers, well that had resulted in a photoshoot he wished he could unsee, but the humiliation to them was worth it. Though the Dean fellow did make a pretty boy in a dress.

But that's neither here nor there. The point is, when he heard rumor Sam would not be representing Cas at the ball, he knew it was all his fault – Sam must have lost confidence in reading the articles and that felt like a great loss to Crowley, because somewhere along the way he realized he was enjoying watching Sam submit. He knew what he had to do, he _wanted_ Sam to understand just how beautiful he was when he was submitting. Only, he could never let it be known that's what he was doing.

His plan worked to perfection, as always. That bag of photos and articles he planted worked like a charm. The whole idea being to show Sam that the articles really were separate things from the pictures; they didn't really belong together and even together, Sam's beauty outshone the ridiculous things he had written.

He was going to give it all up at that point, but then, well, he got bored.

It had become somewhat of a challenge for him to write douchey articles about Sam and feather brain and he'd had a fuckton of fun doing it. So he started again. To his dismay no one cared, which only led to him writing worse and worse things with his plan to make this article about the Submission Ceremony, the definition of douchebag articles.

But he doesn't have it in him. Even he's spellbound by the beauty of the pair and so the article is simple and it reads:

_Our soulmate is our soulmate because we were once joined together and then the Gods challenged us by ripping us from them, forcing us apart. We slowly, very slowly wither while we are without them, and on an unconscious level we know this, and so we search, all the while desperate for them, like a dehydrated person for water. If we are lucky enough to be reunited, we can be whole again and when we are finally sewn back together, we strengthen and bloom unlike we could have any other way. We don’t depend on our soulmate, we are our soulmate and they are us. That's what we've witnessed here today and why we are left stumbling away like drunken fools._

Crowley leaves it at that and as always, lets the picture say the rest.

THE REAL THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sam submitting to Cas urinating on him in public as a means of demonstrating submission rather than a sexual turn-on. Aka. Watersports


End file.
